July 1966: The Mystery of the Black Panther

In the 1930s through the 1950s, the actual American power structure was reflected in fantasy by the American “superpower” structure.

Female superheroes remained rare curiosities, and nonwhite superheroes were unheard of (unless they were green).

“(T)hemes of difference, alienation and mutantism make superhero stories an excellent genre for exploring the concept of ‘the other,’ the person who is different and never quite gets accepted by society,” noted Alex S. Romagnoli and Gian S. Pagnucci in their book Enter the Superheroes: American Values, Culture and the Canon of Superhero Literature.

But the creators were almost entirely white males, and that had an impact on representation. And whatever the creators might have preferred, magazine publishers weren’t about to introduce elements of racial diversity that might threaten sales — not until the mid-1960s, when writer/editor Stan Lee and artist Jack Kirby introduced the world’s first black superhero, the Black Panther (Fantastic Four 52, July 1966).

In this house ad, Lee built anticipation for the new character by keeping what was “sensational” about him completely under wraps. The old mystery sell.

“Previews in other titles that month suggest Marvel couldn’t decide how much of him to show — or how to characterize him,” observed Sean Howe in Marvel Comics: The Untold Story. “Once Marvel committed to a policy of representing black characters, however, change came quickly.”

“The Panther’s first appearance happened during the civil rights movement of the 1960s, and Marvel’s editorial staff were probably watching the newscasts that showed black Americans getting brutalized by police as they sought to change the prejudicial law of the land,” wrote Evan Narcisse.

“Given the times that he was created in, it’s very plausible that the Black Panther was Lee and/or Kirby’s way of saying that a black person was as capable of being a hero as their white characters. Even more daring, the Panther seemed to be more cunning and intelligent than some other heroes.”

July 1960: The Power Ring of Imagination

Though tricked up as a science fiction revamp, the jet-age Green Lantern — with his virtually omnipotent lamp and ring — was a modern Aladdin. His adventures included a thousand and one wonders, just like the Arabian fairy tales.

“(W)hat the ring does perfectly is link Green Lantern’s imagination to the reader’s own,” wrote Alex S. Romagnoli and Gian S. Pagnucci in their book Enter the Superheroes: American Values, Culture and the Canon of Superhero Literature. “It is very easy to imagine wearing a power ring and dreaming up items to defeat bad guys.”

Even if the bad guys are gigantic, ray-gun-wielding clown puppets, as in this house ad for Green Lantern 1 (July-Aug. 1960).

An omnipotent hero is a dramatic problem, but writer John Broome balanced that in a subtle thematic way in the early issues of the title.

Despite his seeming omnipotence, Green Lantern is often the pawn of forces beyond his understanding. That begins even in his origin, when the flightless trainer he’s sitting in is whisked away to the alien stranger Abin Sur. Hal Jordan knows nothing of the Guardians, who will empower him, nor of the people from 5700 A.D. who will periodically kidnap him to help them out.

March 1941: The Star-Spangled Man with the Plan

Captain America was a superhero who had no obvious “super powers.” So why was he such a hit from the moment he was introduced punching Hitler in the pan in 1941?

After all, the first star-spangled superhero — MLJ’s the Shield — was popular, but never as popular as Joe Simon and Jack Kirby’s Captain America, who once sold a million issues a month. But then, ironically, although he had super powers at first, THE Shield didn’t have A shield.

Cap’s shield, which had been circular since the second issue, was as visually arresting as Superman’s cape, and had both practical and symbolic advantages.

“Even better than Daredevil’s billy club, Cap’s shield is the perfect wedding of form and function,” observed Alex S. Romagnoli and Gian S. Pagnucci in their book Enter the Superheroes: American Values, Culture and the Canon of Superhero Literature. “The shield is the perfect symbol of all the patriotism Captain America is meant to embody. Every time Cap lifts that shield high, he’s waving the flag for the whole world to see.”

Cap was a trendsetter there. Taking their cues from Winghead, many of Marvel’s most popular superheroes would ultimately be identified with some stylish, thematic weapon that could be used offensively, defensively and often, even as a means of transport. Thor had his hammer; Daredevil, his billy club; Iron Man, his armor; Spider-Man, his web shooters.

So the shield was perfect and, let’s face it, so was the art. Watch how Cap bends almost into a circle to deliver a blow that must be overwhelming. See him dodge an attack, torso twisting, long legs akimbo. Look at him run, bent forward, bullet-fast.

Who needed super powers when you had that much sheer dynamism on the page?