Fifty-plus years ago, the spring of 1975 brought news of personnel changes to the major American comic book companies that might not have made it into any major metropolitan newspapers, but were guaranteed to garner headlines in the comics fanzines of the time.  Without doubt, the most dramatic such development was the return of artist/writer/editor Jack Kirby to Marvel Comics following a five-year tenure at rival DC; but another change that happened more or less simultaneously with Kirby’s move — and was essentially the reverse mirror image of it — was also significant enough to get a fair amount of ink in The Comics Reader and its ilk: the return of Gerry Conway to DC Comics as both a writer and an editor after having spent the better part of the past half-decade writing for Marvel, where he’d ultimately been responsible for such high-profile titles as Thor, Fantastic Four, and Amazing-Spider-Man.

Heralding Conway’s return to the fold after all this time, the 6th (May, 1975) issue of DC’s in-house fanzine, The Amazing World of DC Comics, attributed both his initial relocation from DC to Marvel, as well as his decision to come back, to “wanderlust”.  But, of course, there was a bit more to it than that, especially in regards to his latest move.  As we touched on briefly in a post last November, Conway had become disgruntled with Marvel after Roy Thomas stepped down as editor-in-chief and has his former duties divided between Len Wein (who became responsible for the publisher’s main line of color comics) and Marv Wolfman (who took over its smaller black-and-white magazine slate).  Decades later, in an interview published in Alter Ego #131 (Mar., 2015), Conway recalled:

I felt that I was the person who was supposed to be the next in line.  This was the attitude of a 22-, 23-yearold at the time.  In fact, though, I’d been told by [Marvel publisher] Stan [Lee] that if Roy ever left, then he would put me in charge, which I think was just him trying to deal with the fact that whenever Roy went on vacation Stan would ask me to fill in for him on the editorial desk, looking over the books.  But he didn’t want to have to, like, pay me for it! [laughs] I guess I don’t know what his reasoning was, but he did lead me to believe that I was the heir apparent to Roy.

 

But when Roy did leave, I was actually away from New York on my own vacation.  I think, in a panic, Stan wanted somebody to replace Roy right that moment and looked around at the editorial assistants and brought in Len, who was working as Roy’s assistant at the time.  I don’t believe that Len was conniving or doing anything to make this happen, but I felt really betrayed by Marvel.  I had really wanted that acknowledgement…  I was reacting from an emotional point of view, feeling dissed by the company that I had committed myself to….  I went over to DC, because I thought they were going to treat me the way that I thought Marvel should have treated me…

 

I was basically given my own little fiefdom at DC.  I was made to feel like I was an important contributor to the company and my presence there was valued, which I did not believe was the case at Marvel.  This is kind of bizarre, because I was writing Marvel’s top books and could really write anything that I wanted to write.  But I didn’t have the sense of authority or autonomy that I felt was my due.  I’m not arguing that this was a legitimate attitude to have but simply me and my emotional reaction at the time.

Back in 1975, your humble blogger was still a year or two out from subscribing to The Comic Reader (or any other general-interest fanzine, for that matter; and I never did get into The Amazing World of DC Comics, alas).  So I’m thinking that my first heads-up that Gerry Conway was moving to Marvel was likely the full-page house ad for Man-Bat #1 that ran in some of DC’s June-shipping comics — which, in addition to promoting Kirk Langstrom’s new solo vehicle, also dropped the names of three other forthcoming titles “from Conway’s Corner” — representing, as he’d later put it in his Alter Ego interview, his “own little fiefdom at DC”.

For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure that my younger self was neither awfully excited nor terribly dismayed at the prospect of Conway’s switching companies.  As regular readers of this blog already know, he was hardly one of my favorite comic-book writers circa 1975; on the other hand, I didn’t exactly hate his stuff, either.  And so, depending on the general appeal of any individual project, as well as on who else was going to be involved creatively, I was perfectly willing to give his new efforts a go.  Thus it was that I decided to pick up the first issues of Man-Bat, and of the revived All-Star Comics (featuring the Justice Society of America)… and, also, of Hercules Unbound — which, technically, wasn’t really part of “Conway’s Corner”, since this new title was edited by Joe Orlando, rather than by the writer.

By his own account (as well as that given in Amazing World of DC Comics #6), Conway had originally approached DC simply with an interest in doing some freelance writing for them, and the possibility of the editorial gig only came up after some discussion.  Perhaps he pitched his “Hercules” idea to Orlando early in those talks; or, it may have been added to his workload when DC realized it couldn’t offer him enough titles to both write and edit to keep him fully occupied.  In any event, it seemed a natural project for Conway, who, after all, had been chronicling the modern adventures of another godly hero of myth, Thor, for the past four years.  (Or, as the “Myth Mail” text page in Hercules Unbound #1 would put it, Conway had spent that time “writing stories about a lisping god with long blond hair, and when he rejoined us {i.e., DC] he expressed a desire to work on a character who radiated the pure masculine image of the Greek heroes.”  Um, OK.)

In fact, Conway had recently been writing a good bit about Hercules, as well — the Marvel version, that is.  Beginning with Thor #221 (Mar., 1974), he’d brought the Greek “Prince of Power” into the Thunder God’s regular supporting cast, having the two mythological powerhouses buddy-up against Pluto, Ego, and other foes for a run of issues lasting over a year.  (While I like to think of myself as a pretty nice person, I’m not so nice that I can resist making note of the fact that during this same period, Conway was also responsible for the notorious Marvel Team-Up #28 [Dec., 1974], in which Herc teamed up with Spider-Man to foil a plot by the City Stealers to haul away the entire island of Manhattan and hold it for ransom — a story whose climax, which featured Hercules dragging the unmoored island back into place by sheer strength of limb, ultimately had to be retconned years later into a “tall tale” recounted by the Olympian.)

Of course, even if Gerry Conway had never written about Hercules before this — or about Thor, for that matter — a “Hercules” comic probably wouldn’t have been that hard a sell to DC, which around this time was coming out with a whole line of what were collectively termed “adventure” titles — a group composed mostly of sword-and-sorcery books like Beowulf, Claw the Unconquered, and Stalker, but which also included pulp thrillers (Justice, Inc.) and caveman action (Tor and Kong the Untamed).  As a public domain character with great name recognition, not just from classical mythology but also from such modern media products as the 1950s-60s “sword and sandal” movies starring Steve Reeves and others as the Greco-Roman demigod, Hercules must have seemed like a good fit for that growing line.

On the other hand, Hercules had something of a spotty track record when it came to comic-book success, at least in America.  While Marvel had yet to use their version as more than a supporting character (though, ironically, they were just about to do so, via the 26th issue of Marvel Premiere — a one-shot tryout for the Prince of Power that would be released on August 5th, 1975, a mere week after Hercules Unbound #1’s own arrival on stands), there had been other comics featuring Hercules as their titular star before DC’s offering, and none of them had lasted very long.  Naturally, one wouldn’t expect a movie adaptation — such as Dell’s 1958 adaptation of Hercules, or the same publisher’s 1959 take on its sequel, Hercules Unchained — to run for more than a single installment.  But there’s no obvious reason why Gold Key’s Mighty Hercules, based on the Canadian TV cartoon of the same name, couldn’t have had more than the two issues that came out in 1963 — or why Charlton Comics’ 167-69 Hercules, featuring some appealing artwork by Sam Glanzman, hadn’t lasted more than thirteen issues — save, of course, that those series’ sales ultimately didn’t meet their respective publishers’ expectations, and thus got the ax.

So, what might help DC’s new “Hercules” title succeed where earlier attempts had failed?  Perhaps by adopting a temporal setting that was distinctively different both from the ancient, pseudo-historical “age of heroes” landscape in which most of the previous comic-book versions of the demigod had had their adventures, and from the modern-day superheroic milieu in which Marvel’s Herc was then doing his thing.  Hey, the thinking might have gone, how about we plunk this strongman of classical myth down in a near-future, post-nuclear apocalypse-type landscape?  That hasn’t been tried before.*

Which, of course, is the approach that Gerry Conway and company ultimately took — although you wouldn’t have been able to get the slightest glimmer of that either from the series’ title, or from the premiere issue’s cover by artist José Luis García-López — both of which, intentionally or not, evoked the title and poster art of the aforementioned 1959 film Hercules Unchained (said art having already been repurposed for the cover of Dell’s adaptation, published in 1960 as Four Color #1121, as shown at right).

Rather, you’d have to open to the story’s first page –which, while it used the same, essentially timeless chain-breaking imagery, at least put its post-World War III setting right up front in the very first caption of Conway’s script:

As with the cover, the story was pencilled by José Luis García-López — a Spanish-born, Argentine-raised artist who’d later be best known for his renderings of DC’s superheroes (renderings which would ultimately be considered definitive enough for García-López to be tapped as the artist for multiple style guides produced for DC’s licensors in the 1980s and after).  At this point in his career, however, he only had accumulated eight story credits at DC, with six of those being for inking.  (Prior to coming to DC, García-López had worked for Charlton for several years — which might help account for his visualization of Hercules resembling that of Sam Glanzman, although that could just as easily be a complete coincidence.)

Naturally, regardless of how strong García-López’s draftsmanship and storytelling might have been in 1975, the fact that his pencils for this story were inked by Wally Wood meant that his artistic personality would have to take something of a back seat to that of the veteran artist providing the finishes.  While arguably no longer at the peak of his powers, Wood was still a master of the brush whose distinctive approach inevitably dominated the individual styles of most of the pencillers he worked with.  (Per the Grand Comics Database, Wood was assisted on the backgrounds for this story by an uncredited Al Sirois.)

The versions of the Greco-Roman gods’ names that we find in Conway’s script are interesting, in that they track with the ones used in Thor as well as other Marvel comics— i.e., the Roman construction Hercules instead of the Greek Heracles, Greek Ares rather than Roman Mars, and Roman Pluto in place of Greek Hades.  I point this out mainly because in the majority of the previous appearances of the classical God of War in DC’s comics (most of which had, unsurprisingly, been in issues of Wonder Woman), the writers had opted to go with his Roman name, i.e., Mars.  Perhaps this was an indication that Conway was intentionally steering away from any previously established DC continuity (which would be understandable, given that, in keeping with the traditional myths of Hercules’ encounter with the Amazons, the demigod’s portrayal in Wonder Woman had generally cast him in a negative light; see example at right).  Or maybe the writer just felt comfortable employing the same names he’d used when writing for Marvel.

According to the “Myth Mail” page in this issue, Gerry Conway named Kevin’s dog Basil after his own Siberian husky; allegedly, the real-life Basil had assisted his master with the scripting, and had, as recompense, “been allowed to appear in the series in lieu of salary.”

DC had dealt with the aftermath of World War III in another series prior to this — that of the Atomic Knights, whose exploits had run in every third issue of Strange Adventures from #117 (Jun., 1960) through #160 (Jan., 1964).  Later issues of Hercules Unbound would link its continuity not only with that of the Knights, but of two future-set series by Jack Kirby, as well — Kamandi (the writing of which Gerry Conway would be taking over in just a few months) and OMAC.  In this first issue, however, there’s nothing to suggest any connection between HU and any other DC property.

Kevin tells how he followed Basil all the way to the docks, and how they managed to board a sailboat just in time to escape the Scavengers.  Of course, the blind boy and the dog were unable to set a course, and were thus forced to follow the wind…

Wait, wasn’t “Commander Diangelo” the leader who was just talking to Ares in this same tent?  He sure was — which suggests that, whatever the God of War may or may not have had to do with the original nuclear conflict of four weeks ago, he’s currently keeping the pot boiling by manipulating forces that would otherwise probably be on the same side (going by the uniforms, maybe the Italian army and navy?) to battle each other for his own cruel enjoyment.

Hercules would have ordinarily been able to take down any number of Ares’ cronies — but the drugged wine was too much for him, and he soon collapsed into unconsciousness…

While Hercules is definitely startled by Kevin’s unexpected prowess in battle, he adjusts quickly — and in no time at all, the skirmish is over…

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you… some thirty-two years before Marvel Comics offered the comics-reading world a “Red Hulk”, DC gave us a “Pink Hulk”.

That’s an unexpectedly bleak ending — one that’s surprising enough that a reader might not immediately question the likelihood that a creature capable of knocking Hercules around the way Kevin’s poor mutated father had just been doing could be taken out by a single rock to the cranium.  On the other hand, it was Kevin who slung that rock — and as Hercules portentously mused back on page 15, there very definitely is “something odd about friend Kevin”… though the series would take virtually the whole of its 2-year, 12-issue run to get around to resolving that mystery.

Of course, my eighteen-year-old self couldn’t know that, back in the summer of ’75.  And while I hardly thought that Hercules Unbound #1 was the greatest mythology-inspired comic book I’d ever read, I definitely had been entertained enough — and was intrigued enough — to come back in late September for the second bi-monthly issue.  There, behind another cover produced by José Luis García-López working solo (the artist would ultimately do the same for all HU covers through issue #6), the ongoing creative team of Gerry Conway, García-López, and Wally Wood continued their narrative, as the core trio of Hercules, Kevin, and Basil picked up three new human companions — Simon St. Charles, Dave Rigg, and Jennifer Monroe — and then went up against a minion of Ares named Cerebus, evidently based on the mythical, multi-headed guard dog of Hades named Cerberus.  (And, yes, that would indeed seem to indicate that Gerry Conway made the very same spelling error that Canadian cartoonist Dave Sim would make just a couple of years later, when naming the aardvark protagonist of his brand-new, identically-titled comic book).

That issue ended on a cliffhanger, with Jennifer kidnapped by Cerebus and carried off to the pits of Hades; being at least reasonably curious to see how things would work out, I thus picked up issue #3 when it showed up two months later.  This issue was probably the most myth-heavy yet, as Hercules, Kevin, and Basil descended into the classical Underworld to rescue Jennifer, and therein met not only its rulers, Pluto and Persephone, but the poet Orpheus as well.  It was all very much in line with my younger self’s personal tastes and interests, and while I don’t really remember my original reactions to the story, back in November, 1975, I can’t imagine that I didn’t enjoy it, on the main.

Which makes me a little puzzled by my failure to pick up the next issue, #4, upon its arrival in January, 1976.  Again, I have no actual recollections of my decision to drop the title, so all I can do is speculate.  Maybe I took a look at the cover — and perhaps flipped through a few pages, as well — and realized that, in contrast to the previous issues, there was precious little mythological content in this one, past the presence of Hercules himself.  Rather, the new storyline appeared to lean heavily into the post-nuclear holocaust science-fiction aspect of the series, which was of less interest to me.  What was more, the appearance of humanoid animals suggested a tie-in with Kamandi (which indeed it was) — a series I’d never gotten into and was even less likely to pick up now, following Jack Kirby’s departure.

On the other hand, it’s also possible that there was some kind of distribution problem with issue #4 which precluded my seeing it on the stands at all, and by the time I realized I’d missed an issue and thus wouldn’t have a “complete run” (at least, not without putting in some work), my enthusiasm for continuing with the series took a nose dive.  I’ll never know, in either case.

After that, I may (or may not) have glanced at Hercules Unbound on the stands, but I wouldn’t be moved to buy another issue until issue #11, when I was drawn in by the cover by Walt Simonson — who had also both pencilled and inked the interiors, making it a must-buy for your humble blogger in March, 1977.  That issue, and the series wrap-up that followed two month later, are worthy of a post of their own, I think… so I’ll postpone discussion of any further details for now, making an exception only to note that Gerry Conway was no longer the writer of the series by this time.  He’d withdrawn from the assignment after issue #6 (published in May, 1976) for one very good reason:  he’d gone back to Marvel, where, at long last, he was granted his desire of being anointed Editor-in-Chief… a position he held for only about a month before throwing in the towel.  By March, 1977, Gerry Conway was actually firmly ensconced back at DC — though not on Hercules Unbound.  But that, too, is a story for another post, another day.

 

*This was true, though we’ll have to allow that Gold Key’s Mighty Samson series (which had debuted in 1964) came kinda close.