If Jack Kirby built the Marvel Universe by flooring the gas pedal, John Buscema is the artist who proved it could keep moving at speed without flying off the road. This page from The Fantastic Four #109 doesn’t feel like a reset after Kirby—it feels like a smooth handoff. (Especially with the amazing Joe Sinnott continuing on as co-pilot.)
Nearly everything that defines the FF is here: impossible tech, last-second switches, and reality bending under pressure. Kirby detonates ideas; Buscema directs them. The action is clean, the staging is crystal clear, and even as the team tumbles through the “Distortion Zone,” you always know where everyone is—and what’s about to go wrong.
That’s why Buscema was the perfect artist to follow Kirby. He didn’t try to out-Kirby Kirby; he translated the chaos into confident, cinematic storytelling.
Fantastic Four #109 lands squarely in my prime spinner-rack era—back when the future arrived every month for 15 cents a pop. Owning this page feels like closing a long loop—from Wurman’s candy store (Long Beach, NY) back to the original art board, without losing any of the wonder.
In fact, it gains even more.
The early Buscema stories (plus some late Kirby and the fill-in Romita stories) can be found in the FF omnibus #4, with either the Kirby #100 cover — or the astonishing homage by Arthur Adams.
Sixty-five years on, The Fantastic Four still feels like Marvel figuring itself out in real time—and getting it spectacularly right. These weren’t heroes born in alleys or back rooms; they were a product of the early ’60s, when the Space Race filled the headlines and the future felt thrilling, reckless, and inevitable. Rockets were launching, limits were being tested, and the question wasn’t should we go farther—it was how fast can we get there. Marvel’s cosmic imagination starts right here, with four people charging into the unknown.
And speaking of charging ahead—just look at this page by Jack Kirby, beautifully locked down by Joe Sinnott. This isn’t just a shrinking sequence; it’s Kirby inventing scale. Machines loom like alien vistas, panels crackle with motion, and your eye doesn’t just read the page—it gets pulled inside it. Sinnott’s inks keep all that chaos crisp, clear, and impossibly confident.
I continue to believe the first 100 issues (and especially the marvelous three-year stretch from about issues #39–76) of The Fantastic Four rank among the most important runs in comic-book history—one long creative hot streak where the ideas redefined pretty much everything that came before.
I’m never going to referee who did what between Kirby and Stan Lee, but one thing is pretty obvious: Lee contributed much of the personality, friction, and soap-opera snap that made the cosmic feel personal. The Fantastic Four bicker, joke, and melt down while rewriting reality—and that mix of big ideas and human irritation became Marvel’s calling card.
Happy 65th to the Fantastic Four: Marvel’s original first family, and a wondrous revolution in comic books.
The Silver Surfer splash from this issue is so striking and iconic that it was later selected as one of Marvel’s classic licensed blacklight posters.
This page from Captain America #118 is Gene Colan doing exactly what Gene Colan did best. From the first panel, Cap isn’t just moving—he’s practically sliding across the page like someone leaned on the fast-forward button. Colan drew superheroes like actors caught mid-scene, all shifting weight and fluid motion.
And that crowd! That outstretched arm is peak Colan—bold, intrusive, unapologetically cinematic. It shoves you right into the scene. It feels like a real city having a very weird day.
Then come those deep, moody shadows he loved so much. He could drop a black shape over half a figure and somehow make it more expressive, not less.
Colan never cared about matching the “house style,” and he certainly didn’t draw superheroes who looked like they’d just ironed their costumes. Shadows, posture, movement—those were his tools. You either vibed with it or you didn’t. I loved it. Some of my friends… not so much. (Especially when some of his other inkers couldn’t quite figure out what Gene was doing… or why.)
But even the skeptics had to admit — nobody, before or since, has drawn comics quite like Gene Colan.
Why is Cap running from the crowded thinking vindictive thoughts? I’m glad you asked. Because, thanks to the cosmic cube, the Red Skull has taken control of Cap, and things are about to take a turn…
Legend has it that this is the “lost” original cover for Thor #405.
As the story goes, Ron sent the pencils to Marvel, and it was misplaced before Marvel could send it to Joe Sinnott for inking.
So Ron quickly redrew the cover and sent the replacement off just in time for deadline.
Eventually, this “first” original surfaced and Marvel returned it to Ron.
Ron ultimately sold it, and the purchaser had Bob McLeod finish it up.
I also think its entirely possible that Thor editor Ralph Macchio (or EIC Tom DeFalco) simply decided he wanted to change Thor’s positioning on the cover, which is pretty much the only material difference between the two versions.
Thor appears to be in more trouble in the published version, although that change could have come from Ron himself. (I like the figure positioning slightly better in the “original” version.)
It’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.
Or, just a fun story, take your pick. Either way, it is a nice piece of cover art.
The actual published version with its original as well.
Story: Stan Lee. (With ghostwriting help likely from Roy Thomas.)
It’s an all-star team of creators contributing to this Sunday Spider-Man strip, and signed by everyone.
(Well almost. If I’m correct about Roy, I hope I can get his John Hancock at a convention. Whenever conventions become the norm again, that is.)
Fun Fact: I acquired this Sunday directly from Alex, who was kind enough to Remarque it for me to distinguish from the few others that had all four autographs. A talented artist and a super nice guy.
Nuff said.
(*You can read about Stan Lee and the legend of “Nuff Said” here and here.)
The very final Spider-Man Sunday, concluding a successful 40-year run.
The first volume of the classic Spidey strips features art by John Romita.
Alex’s very first Spider-Man story featured Mary Jane saying yes to the big question back in 1985.
Continuing our multi-part tribute to the 60thanniversary of the Fantastic Four — and the “Marvel Age of Comics.”
Hulk vs. Thing? Think about it. The Thing can give the Hulk a run for his money, I suppose, but in the end Hulk wins. No contest, really.
The “shock ending” here is that after quite a few matches during the years, The Thing takes pity on Hulk and joins forces with him to fight the army and the Fantastic Four (or more accurately, three), and anyone else who might be persecuting the Hulk at that moment.
George Perez, aided by the amazing Joe Sinnott, delivers a great looking action page featuring both characters. Pages from this issue rarely turn up and I’m fortunate that I found one. This is one of my favorite issues from the late bronze era, and it doesn’t hurt that it features a terrific cover by Jack Kirby, one of his earliest from his “return” to Marvel a few months prior.
That said, about the scale accuracy of the Gateway Arch Monument (St. Louis) vs. the occupants as depicted here? The less said, the better.
The Thing vs. The Hulk, becomes the Thing AND The Hulk — vs. everyone — at the end of FF #166.
Joe Sinnott, easily one of the greatest comic book inkers of all time, and a terrific person to boot, passed away a few days ago. He was 93.
Joe drew the very first sketch I ever owned (and still do, BTW) in my convention program at my very first NYCC, 1972.
Reed Richards — Mr. Fantastic — was an appropriate choice, because Joe’s legendary inks on both Kirby and then John Buscema (and ultimately others) provided a polished, consistent look for “The World’s Greatest Comic Magazine.”
I own other art inked by him, but this one is extra special.
RIP Joe. Many thanks and salutes from all of us for your astonishing career.
Concluding our look at SHIELD on the eve of its 55th anniversary.
Gene Colan was a polarizing storyteller when it came to artistic style.
Fans either really loved his work (count me in that group) or didn’t like it at all. I could never figure that out. Of course his work didn’t look anything like the rest of Marvel Bullpen, but that was cool; his dynamic storytelling and extraordinary use of light and shadows was astonishing. To me, at least.
Colan’s run on Captain America came after both Kirby and Steranko, and that was a definite change of pace. But Gene’s reality-defying physics felt like a perfect fit for Cap, Marvel’s own reality-defying super powered acrobat.
Inking Gene Colan was one of the most challenging assignments in comics, but the legendary Joe Sinnott delivers here.
Nick Fury, of course, is the most important supporting character in the Marvel Universe. After Kirby and Steranko’s run was completed, the character couldn’t sustain his own title, but SHIELD was an important part of the entire Marvel Universe, primarily with Captain America in the latter part of the Silver Age.
And of course that dynamic repeats — brilliantly — in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
And for the record, even though it appears Fury’s up to absolutely no good by hypnotizing Steve Rogers in this scene, he actually did have a higher purpose in mind.
Ultimately it didn’t work. The man is Captain America, after all.
Inking Gene Colan was one of the most challenging assignments in comics, but these two issues stand out: Issue #127, inks by Wally Wood, and #135, inked by Tom Palmer. The Palmer splash is a wonderful harbinger of monstrous things to come on the Wolfman/Colan/Palmer Tomb of Dracula series, while the Wood issue is simply spectacular looking from start to finish.
Meta Fury: Fury is retooled as a black character in the Ultimate Marvel line in the early 2000s, and writer Mark Millar ultimately utilizes the likeness of Samuel Jackson for the role — neglecting to tell him that. But Jackson held no grudge — ultimately playing the character in 11 films and counting.
Fury and Cap share a special bond early on, as discussed here.
Continuing our ongoing celebration of Marvel’s 80thAnniversary.
Sal Buscema and Joe Sinnott deliver an iconic (and terrific) image of the Human Torch in this celebratory opening splash page.
Celebratory in that the Fantastic Four had just gone through a quirky period editorially where they were essentially “broken-up”, and they have reunited in FF #200, on-sale at the same time.
At this point in the run, Joe Sinnott, acknowledged as one of the all-time greats, is pretty much the only consistent through line in the FF — the series was rapidly going through a number of mix and match creative teams. In a three-year period, Joe inks pencillers Sal Buscema, John Buscema, Keith Pollard, Rich Buckler, Ron Wilson, and of course George Perez, who does some of his best known work in this era. (Shortly after this issue is published, Joe adds John Byrne and Bill Sienkiewicz to this mélange.)
Sinnott’s credits, including this one, are often categorized as “finishes” during this timeframe, as many of the pencillers are providing breakdowns only. Doesn’t help enough with the schedule though, as a number of issues are reprints and fill-ins. Marvel, as others have noted, was going through some difficult times. The Fantastic Four themselves wouldn’t truly find their full footing again until a few years later, when Byrne fully takes over writing and art chores.
As for Joe and Sal? With the end of the Spider-Man newspaper strip this year, Joe officially retired from inking … at age 92. Sal (age 83) “retired” in 2000, but continues to be coaxed into working — sometimes by my former colleagues — to this day.
“Flame on!”
So many interpretations of the Human Torch, so little time.
In his earliest appearances, Johnny Storm, the Silver Age Human Torch looked a bit more like the Golden Age version (more flame, less body definition) ultimately evolving to his more familiar form. Meanwhile, the Golden Age Torch, who (with the help of some of clever retconning) eventually makes a comeback in the modern era, appears to look more like the silver age version.
Above: The first appearance of the Silver Age Torch, Johnny Storm, in Fantastic Four #1 (1961) followed shortly thereafter by his first solo outing in Strange Tales #101 (1962) and ultimately followed by a clash with the “original” Torch in FF Annual #4 (1966). The Golden Age Torch returns in Avengers #133- #135 (1975), and revives yet again to join the West Coast Avengers during John Byrne’s run. (Avengers West Coast #50, 1989)
This cool page is from a two-part story that features most of the “underground” characters from the Marvel Universe at that time in a super-villain soap opera (seriously): Mole Man, Tyrannus and Kala, Queen of the Netherworld — her only previous appearance was Tales of Suspense 43!
Here we get The Mole Man and his villainous accomplices defeating the full FF — all the characters are on this page.
I have a soft spot for ‘ol Moley since he was the first Marvel “villain” (FF #1) but, face it, overall he’s pretty lame, and his appearances were relatively limited at this point. As the Marvel Universe became more expansive, the subterranean “inner space” characters logically took a backseat to the far more interesting cosmic entities that reside in the MU.
I also have a soft spot for the six-panel page where the panels are vertical, rather than square. Overall, it’s a much more dramatic look, and much less common than other layouts. (At least at that point.) All in all, a nice Buscema FF page from his great run, and once again, terrific inks by Joe Sinnott.
