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The Spirit (June 1, 1941) “Killer McNobby”
Will Eisner (editor, script, pencils, inks)
Joe Kubert (colors)
Sam Rosen (letters)
And, now, Killer McNobby takes the crown for most formal flexing Spirit strip. They do the narration entirely in rhyme, with accompanying illustration. It’s almost like Eisner and studio realized if they didn’t do something different with it, Killer would be maybe the fifth “Spirit vs. Titular (asterisk) Criminal” strip. Maybe tenth. It’s kind of a default by now, enough so they’ve been deconstructing the tropes recently.
Killer is a bad dude who starts small and gets bolder and more successful. His modus operandi is killing his victims so there aren’t any witnesses to his robberies. There’s a simplicity to the man, and Central City knows to fear him. But Spirit’s not scared, so they get into a fist fight from afternoon to the next morning in a lot in the slums. Gangsters either do or do not show up, the underworld definitely comes out, but the rhyme—there’s eventually a chorus, it’s a song, it’s an urban folk fight song for Spirit; it’s a big ol’ swing. But before I get too distracted by how well-executed Killer gets, I’ll note the incongruities in the lyrics.
The lyrics are impressive in terms of humor and rhyming; in terms of relaying the narrative as it plays out in the accompanying illustrations… they get a C. It happens a lot during the fight sequence, which is unfortunate because it’s a glorious fight sequence after the build-up. Once it’s clear we’re headed into fisticuffs, the rhymes either do or don’t make sense with the illustrations; they quickly become confusing. More confusing is the lyrics not making sense between the rhymes; they lose internal consistency for a while and just roll with it, presumably because they knew once you saw the fight page, you were reading as fast as you could to get to that one. Killer must have looked great on the newspaper page.
There’s not much story. Spirit just goes after dude when enough is enough. They get into the fight, they both have highs and lows, and then there’s the finish. And Eisner and studio change up the lyric structure again to get to a rhyme, saying whatever they have to say to get there. It’s ambitious, it’s successful, it’s just not particularly tenacious. They do an awesome, delightful strip. When re-reading the lyrics to try to understand how the underworld can all be in attendance without any gangsters, the art starts to feel distracting. And the way Eisner works the art to ignore traditional comic strip narrative—it’s far more expressive, both for humor and exposition. It just doesn’t always fit with the lyrics, except typographically, of course. There’s a not zero chance much of the song was written to fit the spaces between the visuals. Killer’s a gorgeously illustrated strip; they worked hard on this one, and they deliver.
Spirit’s been making lots of big swings lately, both in narrative and style; Killer McNobby’s the champ.
For now, anyhow.
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All-Star Comics (1976) #74
Paul Levitz (script)
Joe Staton (pencils)
Joe Giella (inks)
Adrienne Roy (colors)
Ben Oda (letters)
For the last few issues, Dr. Fate, then Hawkman, have had C-plots involving shadow messengers who come to collect them for a higher purpose. On the splash page, we discover this higher purpose: to prepare Earth’s heroes to stop the imminent end of the world. Their meeting is quickly completed (just that splash page), as writer Paul Levitz knows the reader’s going to hear a lot about this mission in exposition throughout the issue.
But not in the second scene, which has Power Girl and Huntress out for lunch in their civilian identities. Power Girl’s just gotten hers in the Power Girl miniseries, and marvels at Helena Wayne’s ability to juggle the two. Except Helena’s been Huntress for far less time than Power Girl has been operating, so it makes very little sense. And Power Girl thinking about how growing up as Batman’s daughter must help with the comfortable duplicity is a whole different subject.
They rejoin the main team for the team briefing—Levitz is in a hurry here, too, skipping through the social pleasantries (but then immediately referencing them). It doesn’t really matter anymore because once Levitz reveals the twist, the entire issue feels like a negotiation between page count and narrative necessity. Even after the team splits up into two squads so the story can move forward (a little).
The first mission has Hawkman, Green Lantern, and Power Girl going to stop a battle between the Soviets and the Chinese. Green Lantern breaks it up, then starts caring for the injured. Hawkman bitches and moans about how Green Lantern should be taking care of the Justice Society mission and not helping some loser civilian. Superheroes are the most important! Green Lantern and Power Girl tell Hawkman he’s being a dipshit, and he takes the observation to heart.
Strange opening. Not as strange as Dr. Fate, Huntress, and Flash’s mission to Montreal. Incidentally, Earth-2’s Quebec is independent, which doesn’t play into the story but is definitely something someone wanted made clear. The heroes stop some terrorists who have attacked an international women’s conference. They do not say “feminist,” but Flash does whine about how, next thing you know, Hawaiʻi will want its independence. While not as crappy as Hawkman (and just a throwaway line), it’s not All-Star without a reminder these defenders of the planet Earth are often complete asshats.
Then the third part has the whole team going to see the “Master Summoner,” the guy who talked to Dr. Fate and Hawkman on the splash page. This time, with the whole team assembled, Master Summoner feels more comfortable revealing the plot twist.
The last chapter is a big battle, involving numerous returning characters (Superman, Wonder Woman, and so on), who get no lines because Levitz is cramped for space and for story. There’s no reason for the cameos, so giving them dialogue would be even more nonsensical.
Joe Giella does a solid job inking Joe Staton’s pencils. It’s not the best looking Staton All-Star, but it’s far from the worst. There are some decidedly goofy panels, of course.
Story-wise, it’s fairly pointless as it all turns out. Especially given the multi-issue build-up. Huntress continues to be a fine addition to the team, and Levitz focusing on her and Power Girl is the right move. If the middle-aged men heroes had any character development or just tried not to be dicks (okay, Dr. Fate and Green Lantern seem to be making an effort), maybe it’d play differently. But probably not because they don’t have anything going on in their lives. Not even lunch like Power Girl and Huntress.
A final piece of housekeeping: While the last page teases next issue, DC cancelled All-Star Comics as part of the 1978 “DC Implosion,” so their adventures (with Levitz and Staton as creatives) continued on in Adventure Comics.
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The Spirit (May 25, 1941) “Thomas Hawkins”
Will Eisner (editor, script, pencils, inks)
Joe Kubert (colors)
Sam Rosen (letters)
Spirit’s been overdue for a nice, wholesome story, so when Thomas Hawkins starts the strip getting out of prison and the guard says, “Once a killer, always a killer,” it’s concerning.
The strip turns around immediately, however, as Spirit drops in to see Dolan and Dolan’s thrilled to tell him about how Hawkins is on his way up and Dolan’s going to remind him the cops have their eye on him.
Spirit, for his part, tells Dolan he’s the bad guy in this situation and is making it worse. And then proceeds to let Dolan hear more of it after Dolan threatens Tommy: crime is a social disease, and criminalizing and ostracizing ex-cons is obviously, objectively perpetuating the cycle. The strip cuts to Tommy at this point, presumably to save the reader from Dolan’s thoughts on Herbert Hoover, again.
And Eisner and studio deliver a one-page visualization of the cycle at work. Tommy comes across an old pal who offers him a job on a robbery; Tommy says, no, he’s gone straight. Except after a series of panels summarizing his attempts at going and, more importantly, staying straight, Tommy ends up at his old friend’s door, having lost a job, found love, lost love, lost another job, over and over.
The page’s didactic—Eisner’s audience for it is obviously the Commissioner Dolan type–but moves well and quickly makes Tommy into a sympathetic protagonist. So when Spirit intervenes and tries to keep Tommy from making a big mistake, it’s hard not to be on Tommy’s side, even as he loses that protagonist positioning.
The strip’s set up as a tragedy. Tommy’s cursed, whether through lack of opportunity or just past association, and only dumb luck and having the world’s only science hero in your corner is the only way to get out of that tragedy. Except even with the Spirit involved, he can’t beat the dumb luck if it’s bad. It’s incredibly frustrating and incredibly tense, and Eisner and studio rather nicely link narrative and visuals around Tommy. Because these frustrations aren’t the reader’s, at least not first. They’re Tommy’s.
The result is Spirit getting away with a wholesome redemption story mostly through summary and exposition. Some of the story events move incredibly fast; others take weeks to percolate. The pacing accelerates and decelerates as needed in quite strong work. Tommy never holds the protagonist slot for long, but he always connects–wonderful intensity to this strip. There’s a passion to it.
Plus, it’s a nice outing for Spirit and Dolan. Regardless of the sociological disagreement (though, let’s be real, one of them is right, the other is not), their character arc is nice. It’s been a while since they’ve had a mutually beneficial outing.
Oh, last thing… Dolan’s first remark to Spirit is the eternal Superman question: Are the glasses enough? Spirit’s leaning into the visual similarities between Clark Kent and Spirit in disguise, which is a fun surprise.
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The Spirit (May 5, 1941) “Marta & the Renaissance Primitive”
Will Eisner (editor, script, pencils, inks)
Joe Kubert (colors)
Sam Rosen (letters)
After the strip’s big creative adventures last week, Marta is a seemingly more conventional Spirit versus criminal-of-the-week strip. The slight deviations from the norm, such as the Spirit doing Sherlock Holmes-style deduction, actually make the strip feel traditional in its self-contained scope.
The action opens with Marta at the museum, leaving for the night. She’s been practicing her own painting by copying a master (a Renaissance Primitive, which either refers to a primitivist Renaissance painting, meaning it invokes the experience of a “primitive” setting, or it’s a reference to Flemish Primitives, and that usage refers to its artist being a creator of a new painting style.
The content of the painting isn’t important, though Eisner enjoys the phrase “Renaissance Primitive” itself, using it whenever the opportunity presents (just never with a definition). Perhaps as potentially disinterested as the strip’s reader in art history lessons, so too is Ebony the next day when he and Spirit visit the museum. Spirit has to save Ebony from having his head stuck between a marble statue lady’s arm and breasts; it’s (somewhat) discreetly done, but they do strongly imply Ebony’s intent. Not a bored, leaning mistake, either… instead, it gives “don’t grope the statues, young man” energy.
Anyway.
Spirit immediately realizes the painting has been stolen and replaced with a fake. Since it might be the museum curator doing a con, Spirit’s going to steal the fake and get to the bottom of it. Marta’s first half is a series of carefully executed, very quick, practically methodical, multi-step actions. Spirit sends Ebony for another painting to replace it, while doing a quick costume change and a smoke-bomb distraction. He’s also going to have a backup plan in case he gets stopped.
But it’s not just Spirit with the planning. After Spirit checks in with Dolan (who’s competitive but not negligently so this time around), the strip shifts over to the villain. The reader learns why the painting was stolen and that the thief has a detailed, intricate plan—involving the Spirit—to get revenge on another suspect. It’s not just deliberate in the exposition or plotting, either. There are visual cues. It’s delicate, fine work.
Spirit does unravel it rather brusquely on the last page, but the strip’s out of pages, and there’s quite a bit more to do after the solution.
Along the way, there’s a just okay action sequence. The art isn’t Eisner and studio flexing this week. There’s a lot to fit in, and they concentrate on getting the information into the panel–in addition to the visuals, there’s also a lot of dialogue since there’s a ground situation of vengeance to lay out, and the one fisticuffs bit is inert. Then the second-to-last page, which has visual clues for the reader for the reveals along with lots of exposition, feels like a different artist in the studio took over. At least on the layouts.
But the last page wraps it all together nicely, and Marta connects for the finish.
And, of course, it’s nice to see Spirit and Commissioner Dolan getting along so well.
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Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes (1977) #241

The opening story, Prologue to Earthwar, is an all-time Legion banger, despite a bit of weaponized misogyny and classism. And Wildfire being okay with manslaughter on his conscience. Oh, and weird racism against the bad guys. They’re green and slimy, so the Legionnaires call them slime-related slurs. Is it speciesism?
Finally, lots of it is definitely fascism. Fascism is okay as long as you were right in the end, says Brainiac 5 with the most disconcerting grin. Penciller James Sherman has these big, expressive eyes on these careful faces, and so when every hero is grinning in their action panel, it feels like a victory lap of a comic book. But it’s unclear for what, because writer Paul Levitz doesn’t just punt the reveal into the next issue; he punts two reveals into the next issue. Probably not three, but possibly three.
It’s a wild story and wildly successful. The political and military business comes in rapid fire, but never with too much exposition. The story is mostly an action story. Superboy shows up and kicks ass; the Legion zooms out on a mission against the green space pirates in an extended sequence, which includes those sexism and classism subplots. Plot points. Plot details. Whatever they are.
With Sherman’s pencils (ably inked by Bob McLeod), Levitz basically has primetime TV teenagers as the Legion to play with. They’re able to do a bunch of character work, like Levitz is flexing because he knows he’s got Sherman doing the art. So, again, it has that victory lap feeling, like the creators know what they’ve got going here, they know how well it’s going to land, so they’re enjoying the stroll.
That attitude is infectious–the story’s fun. Superheroes show up and do really well-rendered superhero action things. They’re usually not being creepy to the girls. They’re often not being crappy about how other carbon-based life forms look. And there’s time for missions and side missions. Levitz has a full twenty-two pages, and Sherman only takes one of them for a big splash page. Sherman draws this book as if he wants to read it; Levitz writes it as if he wants to see Sherman draw it. The synergy’s out of sight.
The buildup towards the finish, where Levitz recalls various details from the story to that point, letting the reader in on some of the connections, is fantastic. Great cliffhangers. Just an outstanding Legion comic book.
There are the bad vibes, of course–the fascism, racism, sexism. Again, as long as you never get caught being wrong, you’re doing the right thing. I also just realized Superboy is never around for Brainiac 5 manipulating his teammates.
Still, great comic.
The backup has Paul Kupperberg writing a Timber Wolf extended backup (it’s 12 pages, meaning we get a full-page retelling of Light Lass’s origin). They’re on mission together, but the planet police guy doesn’t want Light Lass on the case because it’s about her evil brother, Lightning Lord.
Kupperberg’s scripting from a Levitz plot, with Arvell Jones and Danny Bulanadi on art. Jones likes doing some seventies fight scenes. The attitude and particulars remind a lot of Wolverine (oh, and Timber Wolf’s hair). But Kupperberg’s got a bunch of exposition to get out, like they were supposed to have more pages, not less.
It’s okay. It’s kind of roughly done; Kupperberg’s most engaged when it’s Timber Wolf interrogating the locals and playing rogue superhero. Then, most of the story ends up being Lightning Lord’s whinging.
But it doesn’t need to be on par with Prologue, just smooth enough to get through. And it does.

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