Stan Lee wanted to call Marvel’s next new superhero team The Mutants, but publisher Martin Goodman objected that kids wouldn’t know what that term meant.
So it became The X-Men 1 (Sept. 1963) — “X” being a spooky kind of a letter that suggests mystery (and for once, I agree with Goodman).
I bought my copy of the first issue off the newsstand, along with Avengers No. 1. (the more exciting choice for me, being a team composed of five superhero characters I already knew and loved).
The X-Men seemed to combine the teenaged appeal of Spider-Man with the bickering bombast of the Fantastic Four, featuring an icy teen instead of a fiery teen and a Beast instead of a Thing.
The uncanny team’s protagonist was clearly Cyclops, a brooding romantic underdog whose overwhelmingly powerful eye beams were also an impairment that alienated him from people.
I should say “further alienated him,” because the concept of humanity’s distrust of the mutant heroes was built into the concept from the first.
The X-Men have a handy all-purpose explanation for their super powers — mutation. They don’t require radioactive spiders or exploding planets. They could easily exist in their own self-contained universe (although, like all the other Marvel superheroes, they didn’t).
It’s no coincidence that the first successful superhero team in the movies would be the X-Men, because the explanation for their powers has that appealing dramatic simplicity. It’s harder for audiences to accept a dozen different excuses for the characters’ super powers (The Avengers got that problem out of the way by spring-boarding from separate origin movies that established the characters).
The idea of a school for teenaged superheroes was ingenious. A few years earlier, DC had stumbled onto the similarly crowd-pleasing concept of a club for teenaged superheroes.
Odd to think that, in the 21st century, the most popular character from that first issue would be the villain.
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