The highlight of SF fandom in 1940 was the World Science Fiction Convention, which was held for the first time in the Chicago. One hundred and twenty-five fans from all around the country converged in the city on September 1 for the event, a good showing considering the youth of many fans, their lack of financial means, and Chicago’s distance from the greatest fan axis, New York City. Chicon, as it was dubbed, was considered a splendid success. One of the attendees was Jerry Siegel, no longer the youth who had sought Otto Binder’s advice.
But by far the most important event in Otto Binder’s life in 1940 was on a more personal level: he and a raven-haired beauty named Ione Turek fell in love and were married.
Chicago-born Ione Frances Turek was the attractive, outgoing daughter of a Czech immigrant family living at 5137 Barry Avenue. Her father, Frank William Turek, was a printer. She had two siblings: an older sister, Lorine, and a younger brother named Frank Jr. Born on January 20, 1918, the second of three children, Ione was later to say that both she and Frank were “unwanted.” For whatever reason, Ione felt mother Mary Turek (nee: Majzl) had only wanted one child.
There was also, according to a family member, alcoholism in the Turek family, which may have contributed to the family’s problems. In any case, Ione—vivacious, pretty, and smart—never felt she got the love and attention she needed while growing up. After graduating from high school, Ione worked for The Travelers Insurance, biding her time until she found Mr. Right.
Otto and Ione before they were married: “The Lovebirds.” Courtesy of the Julius Schwartz Collection.
Unaccountably, Otto Binder and Ione Turek met not in Chicago, but in New York City. What was Ione doing there? Visiting a relative, perhaps? It’s a mystery, though a small one in the scheme of things. What matters is that they instantly recognized in each other the special qualities they wanted in a mate.
Otto, the son of a warm, tight-knit family, was a giving, affectionate man, who must have been a dream come true to Ione. She would find in the handsome writer the care she didn’t receive at home. She also found in Otto her intellectual equal.
Approaching thirty, OOB had begun to fear he wouldn’t find “the right girl.” He wanted to settle down and raise a family like Jack. Ione wanted a family too, and didn’t mind putting some distance between her mother and herself. Their love found no obstacle, and they were married on November 2, 1940, in Chicago.
Otto and Ione Binder made a dazzling couple: he with dreamy eyes, cleft chin, and wavy hair; she with her pale complexion, sharply drawn features, and dark tresses. He was a successful writer; she was a born hostess. It seemed as if they were made for each other. The Binders welcomed Ione into their family as one of their own.
After their honeymoon, Otto and Ione returned to New York in March of 1941. They moved in with Jack and Olga Binder in a five-story walk-up on 175th Street and St. Nicholas Avenue in Washington Heights.
The Turek family. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
Harry Chesler was reportedly having cash flow problems in 1940, despite the number of pages his shop was churning out. Most of his staff walked out, moving en masse to MLJ Publications. Jack Binder, however, saw opportunity in the huge demand for material, and decided to start his own comic book production shop. By now, the publishers knew Jack, and were more than willing to send some of their business his way. Soon the beginnings of the new shop filled the apartment, with artists tucked into every corner, surrounded by stacks of supplies. Ione and Olga kept the men fed, while taking care of Jack and Olga’s children. Olga, according to her daughter Bonnie, was “a good subservient German-Czechoslovakian wife who followed the directives of her husband and raised her children. She was very kindhearted. They always had people staying with them, and my mother was always chief cook and bottle washer.”3 In the midst of her whirlwind of activity, Olga discovered she was pregnant again, and in 1942 Bonnie was born.
Top, Jack Binder’s house in New Jersey, with a “carriage house” (barn) in back. This was where Jack’s comic book production shop was based, in its heyday. Courtesy of Michael Turek. Bottom, Drawing of the barn by A. Duca. Courtesy of Paul Hamerlinck.
In the upper story of Jack Binder’s barn, he supervised artists who churned out pages for numerous comic book publishers. Seated foreground: Kurt Schaffenberger. Standing, right: Jack Binder. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
Looking for a location for a shop, Jack decided on New Jersey, where real estate prices were relatively low. He rented a home with a carriage house in the back—most called it a barn—for seventy-five dollars a month. He converted the barn’s large loft into a studio, and was off to the races.
Otto and Ione moved along with them, and eventually Otto’s resistance to writing comic books was worn down. For one thing, by 1941 the comics market was booming, and it seemed the colorful new medium was no mere fad. Superman was a huge success. National had only intended to publish one issue of a comic book with all sixty-four pages devoted to their new star, but sales for Superman #1 (Summer 1939) were such that they quickly converted the one-shot into an ongoing series. Kids couldn’t get enough of the Man of Tomorrow, whose popularity immediately inspired imitation. Where there were windfall profits to be made, the opportunistic pulp publishers and other newcomers scurried to grab a piece of it.
A bevy of new players entered the field and were frantically seeking new material. Writers and artists were being offered significantly higher rates. Jack Binder filled the space in his loft as quickly as possible to handle the increased demand. Some of the mainstays were Pete Riss, who virtually became a member of the Binder family, Ken Bald, André LeBlanc, Kurt Schaffenberger, Bill Ward, and Bob Boyajian. In total, something like one hundred different artists (and some writers) were employed at one time or another by Jack Binder. Of course, he would soon be losing good men to the armed forces, so he was constantly hunting for new talent. He even managed to convince his brother Curley to move to New Jersey and help out where he could for about a year. Otto later clarified Curley’s participation. “Curley … lived in NYC for about a year [in either 1943 or 1944] and when I had a rush of comics work, helped me out writing scripts. He did a couple dozen, mainly for Timely Comics.”61 He kept no exact record of the scripts ghosted by his brother. (It’s possible Curley also worked on the artwork, doing things like ruling the panel borders, erasing the pencil artwork after the inking process was completed, etc.)
With increased demand, the rates for the work became more attractive. Now Jack could offer Otto two or three dollars a page, as opposed to Chesler’s paltry five dollars for a whole script. What’s more, he needed Otto’s help.
Otto finally relented. “I did one [script], and they paid me more than I thought it was worth,” he said later. “Then they wanted another one, and another one. The first thing I knew, I was piled up with comics work.”62
He began by writing a script for Power Nelson, the Future Man, which had been the cover feature of Prize Comics (Feature Publications, Inc.), only recently superseded by the Black Owl. When that was approved, Jack said, “Do a Black Owl.” Otto ended up writing the next eleven scripts for the Owl, a fairly prominent character of the day. (They would have appeared in Prize #15 to 24 if they were used consecutively.) He wrote a Vulcan yarn for Super Mystery Comics (Ace Magazines, Inc.), then Doc Strange for America’s Best Comics (Nedor Publishing Company). He penned nine Captain Battle entries for Silver Streak Comics (New Friday Publications, Inc.).
Otto Binder also wrote eleven scripts for Joe Simon and Jack Kirby’s Captain America between April and December of 1941, including the moody, atmospheric “Case of the Black Witch” in the eighth issue. Captain America was an early instance when Otto wrote for a first-string character. Forever after, OOB would cite Simon and Kirby as comic book geniuses.
Detail from “Case of the Black Witch” in Captain America #8 (November 1941). Script by Otto Binder. Art by Jack Kirby and Joe Simon. ™ and © Marvel Characters, Inc.
Early Captain Marvel art by C
. C. Beck, from Whiz Comics #15 (March 2, 1941). ™ and © DC Comics.
“The work was almost like child’s play, yet it paid twice or three times as good as pulp writing did,” Otto remembered. “I dropped the pulps. It was fantastic. I couldn’t believe it!”63
Being a child of the Depression, now a husband, Binder went where the money was. While he still made an occasional pulp sale in 1941, by year’s end he had stopped writing entirely for the field where he’d found his first success. This wasn’t as daring as it sounds, since the heyday of the pulps was over by 1940, and everyone knew it. Binder was certainly aware that the pulp market was shrinking. Young readers were now spending their hard-earned dimes on comic books, and the pulps were ceding display space to comics in neighborhood candy stores and newsstands everywhere.
Around this time, Jimmy Taurasi’s Fantasy Times science fiction fanzine headlined the news that Eando Binder was leaving the SF pulps to concentrate entirely on writing comic books.
The Fawcett Brothers. From L-to-R: Roger, Buzz, Gordon, and Roscoe. Courtesy of P. C. Hamerlinck.
Jack Binder had a client who proved to be one of the most important comics publishers of what came to be called the Golden Age of comics. This was Fawcett Publications, Inc., a well-established magazine publishing house that had been built on the profits of the popular humor magazine Capt. Billy’s Whiz Bang. Founder Wilford Fawcett had made way for his four sons to continue to helm the firm: Roger, Wilford Jr. (“Buzz”), Gordon, and Roscoe. By the end of the 1930s, the company’s bread and butter came from the profits of True Confessions, Mechanix Illustrated, a number of pulps, and other magazines.
Fawcett entered the comic book fray with the introduction of Captain Marvel in Whiz Comics in February 1940. In the fall of 1939, Roscoe Fawcett asked editorial director Ralph Daigh and art director Al Allard to “give me a Superman.”64 They in turn gave the assignment to their writer/editor Bill Parker, a young man who was supervising editor on Fawcett’s movie magazines. Parker was not only asked to originate a lead feature something like Superman, he was also instructed to invent a total of six brand new characters for Whiz Comics. Parker came up with the World’s Mightiest Mortal, Captain Marvel, who changed from teenage Billy Batson to the fully grown hero by saying the magic word, “Shazam!” The character’s look and costume were designed by Fawcett staff artist Charles Clarence Beck, who initially based his appearance on that of popular film star Fred MacMurray. The Parker-Beck team clicked, and Captain Marvel became a major comics star almost overnight. With Whiz Comics a solid hit, the Fawcetts naturally decided to add more titles to their roster.
While C. C. Beck and his assistant Pete Costanza initially did the art for Captain Marvel in the Fawcett offices, Al Allard was forced to farm out the stories and artwork for the subsidiary characters to the comic book production shops. The first shop they tried was that of Harry Chesler, but Allard wasn’t satisfied with the result. Next they tried a new shop formed by Jack Binder, which provided a higher quality product. Otto Binder came to write his first scripts for Fawcett through his brother’s shop. (Though Fawcett eventually expanded their in-house bullpen to produce nearly all their comic book content except those Captain Marvel strips done by Beck and his staff in his own studio, they relied on Binder’s studio heavily for their first three years.)
Captain Venture in Master Comics #17 (August 1941). Possibly the first page Binder wrote for Fawcett Publications. ™ & © respective copyright holders.
The first Fawcett hero that Binder scripted was a third-stringer named Captain Venture, who had been introduced in Nickel Comics #4 (June 1940), an experimental bi-weekly comic book that sold for five cents. When Nickel was dropped, Venture moved to Master Comics with the eighth issue. He would last only to #22, with his only distinction being the fact that Otto Binder wrote the last six stories. The best evidence indicates that his first Captain Venture script saw print in Master Comics #17 (August 1941).
Binder’s next Fawcett assignment was to write the second story featuring Batman imitator Mr. Scarlet for Wow Comics #2. He also continued to write for all the other companies throughout this year: Satan for Harvey; Marvo the Magician and Lone Warrior for Ace; Captain Battle and Cloud Curtis for New Friday; Doc Savage and Ajax for Street & Smith; and Tuk, Cave Boy, and Young Allies for Timely (he wrote the entire first issue). He was, after all, working for his brother’s shop, not any company directly.
Part of the art staff at Fawcett Publications, Paramount Building, New York City, 1942. Clockwise from left: Marc Swayze, C. C. Beck, Jack Keats, Richard D. Taylor. Courtesy of P. C. Hamerlsinck.
Not surprisingly, Binder’s early scripts weren’t exceptional. This was his journeyman period, when he was perfecting his craft, and learning how to write for the new medium. Although he had originally thought writing comics was easy, he found—as he became more observant and attuned to the medium—comics presented unique challenges to a writer that straight prose (and newspaper strips) did not. The comic book format was virtually brand new. There was no place Binder could look to for guidance. He had to trust his own instincts and imagination.
As comic book writer Alan Moore (best known for Watchmen) later put it, “Otto Binder was a kind of titan, a precursor of the gods … because he came up with basic primordial forms that later writers would perhaps polish to a greater luster. But Binder hewed them out of solid rock. He was mining the raw material.”65 Without realizing it, Binder was a pioneer.
As 1941 progressed, Binder began working directly with Fawcett comics editor France (“Ed”) Herron, coming into Manhattan to their editorial offices on the twenty-second through twenty-fourth floors of the Paramount Building on Times Square. The firm’s location alone was impressive. “On the ground floor was the Paramount Theatre, where Glenn Miller and his orchestra were currently appearing,” Fawcett staff artist Marc Swayze recalled. “On the corner was a huge Walgreen drug store. Across the street was the Astor Hotel where Hollywood stars stayed when in the city, and where The Three Suns opened their program nightly with their beautiful theme, ‘Twilight Time.’ On the opposite side of Seventh Avenue was the Times Building, where current headlines in lights rotated constantly.”66
Otto Binder had little problem meeting Ed Herron’s requirements. Herron quickly moved Binder up to Fawcett’s second-tier characters, which were as good as or better than many another publisher’s stars: Spy Smasher, Bulletman, Golden Arrow, and Ibis the Invincible.
In the feverish four years after the appearance of Action Comics #1, comic books had evolved considerably. As they did, Binder became genuinely fascinated with the form, and began to have intimations that comics had potential to continue to evolve.
In Sunspots (November 1941), a science fiction fanzine published by Gerry de la Ree, he wrote about those glimmerings. The article titled “A New Medium for Fantasy?” appeared under the Eando byline. After admitting that he had only been in comics for about six months, he wrote, “Perhaps … a few ruminations of my own in regards to this strange new breed of the publishing field might serve the purpose of an article. First of all, it’s an intriguing new medium of writing: half in words, half visual. … Admittedly, the comics appeal to a very juvenile audience, but gradually they are growing up, I believe. The possibility is that eventually the picture-medium may be used to tell far better stories—even good science fiction!
“The trend in comics … is toward longer-length stories, and more detailed plotting. A year ago they were slam-bang, plotless action. Today, gradually, you find human interest, twists, detailed characterization. A magazine is soon to come on the market—Young Allies—which presents a complete ‘book-length’ story in sixty pages, divided into six chapters. Also a Captain Battle story of forty pages, in five chapters, is in the making. In these, the keynote is still rapid action, but less so than before. By a process of evolution another year from today may see sixty-page stories comparable to your favorite novelettes by science fiction authors, with pictures telling the story
instead of [just] words. I put myself out on a limb saying that. For all I know, the comics may wither and blow away as dust a year from now. But—who knows?
“Whether they have lasting power, whether they are a new form of story-telling not to be lightly cast aside, whether they will evolve into fantasy of a more plausible and digestible form—only time can tell.” As it turned out, Binder’s vision of the potential of the sequential art medium came true, decades later, in the form of multi-part comic book stories and graphic novels.
Ed Herron watched as Binder’s work surpassed that of others, and recognized that Otto had the potential to become a first-rate comics writer. Like all editors, he also appreciated Binder’s speed and reliability, and his ability to take criticism in stride—all signs of a true professional. Herron raised Otto’s rate from three to four dollars a page. OOB was being groomed for Fawcett’s star, Captain Marvel.
His first Captain Marvel story was a prose tale, “Captain Marvel and the Scorpion,” published as a Big Little Book, a popular format of the day that straddled the fence between comics and prose books. The small-sized, thick books alternated pages of art and text. He got the job, Otto later said, because he was an experienced pulp writer.
Finally, in December 1941, just as the attack on Pearl Harbor propelled the United States into World War II, Otto was promoted to the big time. Herron told him that he was ready to write Captain Marvel.
Otto Binder: The Life and Work of a Comic Book and Science Fiction Visionary Page 8