Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
(PART TWO)
THE FANTASTIC FOUR YEARS
Everything I Ever Needed To Know, I Learned From Jack Kirby's
"Run" On THE FANTASTIC FOUR. 
Lord knows, there were any number of invaluable "life's lessons" available to the young readers of the day, within the pages of the sole comics series (save, perhaps -- perhaps, mind, now -- his latter DC work, THE NEW GODS) most often associated with the conceptualizer and penciler nonpareil whom all knowledgeable fans of the medium honor with the singular sobriquet: "The King."
Chiefest amongst these, of course -- indeed; inherent in the very concept of a series revolving so resolutely 'round matters of home; heart; and hearth -- was the incalculable merit and worth of teamwork (in general), and the peculiar strengths of the family unit (in particular).
Aided and abetted by additional dialogue (courtesy of Stan Lee), Kirby played upon the themes of Unity and Group Identity again and again, detailing a world in which every character of even the most fleeting import found his/her strength and purpose within the larger context of: "This, here, is where I am most truly at home; where I am most free to be myself."
The Fantastic
Four, themselves, were (obviously) bound together by the constraints of
blood; intermarriage; and lifelong friendship. So, too (to an even greater
extent) were the clannish and insular Inhumans; the homeland-obsessed
Black Panther (re: the
African kingdom of Wakanda) and the equally territorial Doctor
Doom (i.e., the remote mountain fastness of his own monarchy,
Latveria).
No matter
how far the members of the team roamed, during those "peak" years of the
series' signal storytelling brilliance -- whether singly, or as tightly-knit
"unit"; be it to the lunar home of The Watcher (yet another character,
please note, defined by his belonging to [and occasional defiance of]
a group "collective), or the alien Skrull homeworld -- the single,
overriding storytelling drumbeat was that of: We Are Defined By One
Another.
(This, incidentally, was a characteristic of Jack "King" Kirby's comics work
throughout his [derervedly] storied career. The denizens of BOY'S RANCH
found themselves banded together against the dictates of the larger society
of the day, as a whole; THE X-MEN franchise -- particularly today's version
of same -- is/was all but predicated upon the conceit; and, of course,
there are those two eternally-warring races of immortal beings over in the various
NEW GODS-oriented titles, over the years, with which to further conjure.
Just to name a quick'n'easy three examples.)
None of this, of course, should be (mis)construed as implication or avowal
that the FF, under Kirby, were so hidebound and unbending in their loyalties
to one another that they -- in turn -- were unmindful of their concomitantly
unique status and stature within the larger Marvel universe as the "grandfather
team" of same. Many lasting and important friendships and alliances were
forged between various members of the group and other Marvel characters: the Human Torch, with fellow teenager Spider-Man;
the Invisible Girl, with the tormented undersea ruler, the
Sub-Mariner; even the brutish Thing's repeated knock-down, drag-outs
versus the Incredible Hulk managed -- after a time --
to forge the bonds of an underlying respect between the two man-monsters (albeit,
certainly, an altogether grudging one).
Another Important Life's Lesson I gleaned from my eager, pre-adolescent readings of those wonderful tales was this: never, ever attempt to pick the "good guy" out of any crowd, based solely on his outward physical appearance.
You see: I came upon the FANTASTIC FOUR comic fairly "late" during my Wonder Bread years, relatively speaking: issue #55, to be precise. (By way of comparison: my first AVENGERS was #9; and my initial exposure to AMAZING SPIDER-MAN was #6). Thus, when I picked up said issue [see cover reproduction, below], out of curiousity evoked by the blow-you-right-out-of-the-water Kirby cover beckoning to me from the drug store spinner rack...
... I just naturally kindasorta assumed, y'see,
that the shiny, noble-looking fellow on the right was the good
guy... and that the big, angry, ugly dude on the left was, y'know,
the bad guy.
Yeah, yeah... so the local neighborhood council posted big, yellow CAUTION: SLOW CHILDREN signs all over my neighborhood, the day I was born. So what,
man? I didn't see you at last week's Mensa picnic, either,
Wile E. Coyote.
In any event: I made up for lost time, muy pronto, by trading
a bunch of JIMMY OLSEN and LOIS LANE comics to one of my similarly comics-besotted
grade school chums for a nearly complete run of Kirby's FANTASTIC FOUR
to that point... so that worked out all right, anyway. (Heh-heh-heh...
talk about trading a few handfuls of beads and trinkets for prime New York real
estate! MWAH-ha-ha-haaaaaa -- !!)
(Chris... if you're out there, somewhere, reading this, fellah: I feel really, really awful about that "trade," now. Honest to
God, man. *snicker*)
No one has ever utilized the character of "Benjamin J. Grimm" -- a.k.a., the aformentioned Thing -- to artfully explicate such themes as did the inestimable Jack Kirby. No other artist have ever managed to twist and mold those monstrous, rough-hewn features so tellingly, in service of so many defining character "moments."
Simply put: the character was never so fully
human, as was he while being posed and poised by his first -- and best
-- Vermeer.
Third and final lesson (for now, at any rate): There Is No Crisis or Calmity So Monstrous and All-Encompassing That It Cannot Be Met, Head-On... So Long As Your Family Is With You.
The ultimate
expression of this ethos, of course, would have to be the initial, jaw-
dropping encounter between the all-but-omnipotent Galactus, on the
one hand... and a MASSIVELY out-gunned Fantastic Four, on the other.
[See cover reproduction, below]
If the odds in any battle between established characters
within the Marvel Universe have ever been more ludicrously and calculatedly
one-sided, I'm not entirely certain I'd really want to read the story
in question.
Galactus, you see, was...
... well: if not an actual, no foolin', I-got-your-"burning- bush"-right-
here-boopsie god... he'd certainly "do" until the real
thing came along. (Even if he did -- for reasons never rendered
sufficiently clear unto me, then or now -- choose to walk around with
two honkin' big hockey sticks attached to his head. I'm just sayin',
really, is all.)
The Big Guy's particular "franchise," god-wise, was the munching upon of various planets... be they inhabited or no. And the very next course listed on his interstellar table menu was none other than good ol' you-know-where.
(No, no, no, you idiots! NOT "Krypton"! At least
sit upright and pretend you've been paying attention all of this time,
f'chrissakes -- !)
The fact that all successive issues of the various Marvel Comics titles don't begin with the caption: "... meanwhile... somewhere within Galactus' lower intestine..." stands as sufficient testimonial, I think, to the effect that The Fabulous Foursome did, in fact, manage to turn aside the wrath (or, rather, hunger) of this gargantuan force of nature, just before the latter had fully materialized his accompanying eighty-foot-tall bottle of Worcestershire sauce.
The Good Lord grant that we never see the likes of this ravenous behemoth, ever again...
... or -- failing even that much -- that he doesn't show up, at least, after having indulged his interstellar self with... ummmmm... Certain Homegrown Narcotic Substances of an Illegal Nature.
I don't even wanna think about what sixteen different stripes of holy
blue hell this guy would be like, whilst in the remorseless grip of a
really killer case of "the munchies."
THE KIRBY LEGACY
PAGE ONE: THE
NEW GODS... and Kirby's "Fourth World"
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