Otto Binder: The Life and Work of a Comic Book and Science Fiction Visionary

by Schelly, Bill

  OOB was working six or even seven days a week, partly because of the manpower shortage during the war. He didn’t serve because he was under a 1-B plus 3-A draft classification including an OWI (Office of War Information) deferment, and finally 4-A for being too old. Instead, he did his part for the war effort by writing many stories of America’s heroes fighting the Axis powers. Binder didn’t gripe about the long hours. He instinctively knew that the golden goose could one day stop laying golden eggs. He was “getting while the getting was good.”

  Binder had also scripted the memorable sixty-four page one-shot Remember Pearl Harbor comic book published by Street & Smith in December 1941, with art by brother Jack’s shop. It was a straight history of the event, distributed to schools as a patriotic item. “It was a rush job,” he later wrote. “I worked through an entire night and day, for twenty-four solid hours, to finish the script, after which a team of artists rammed it out in a couple [of] sleepless nights. It might, for all I know, be the record for getting out a single issue of a comics magazine, as I know it was given priority at the engravers and printers and probably came out in the miraculous time of three weeks after writing it!”72

  A depiction symbolizing the epic struggle between Dr. Sivana and the World’s Mightiest Mortal, from Captain Marvel Adventures #100 (September 1949). ™ & © respective copyright holders.

  In a later interview, Otto explained something of his working method.

  “All the Captain Marvel stories I wrote were first discussed between myself and the succession of editors: Ed Herron, Rod Reed, Tom Naughton, and the parade of editors that came after that, circa 1943. As for the lack of artist participation in the preliminary story development, I think it would have hindered it. Many of the artists had no story sense at all, being strictly craftsmen, and good ones at that. They often ‘saved’ a bad story by making it look good; but not by changing any of the scenes of dialogue or captions, but rather simply by visualizing the flow or the movement of a story properly. Outside of a very few artist/writers such as Jack Kirby or Will Eisner, the comic artists had no part in plotting or writing a story; they simply drew it up as specified by a script, which had been approved by an editor.

  “Among artists, Beck was of course my favorite. I took great delight in his renditions of my Captain Marvel scripts and thought that he was a bit of a genius. He was the only artist allowed by the Fawcett editors to alter scripts on occasion or to insert or delete certain panels, and change wording. But Beck never took advantage of this; he simply made improvements along the way. We sometimes differed sharply over a particular sequence (he would show me the roughs) but we would always come to a compromise.

  “Many stories were problems because they were too crammed with plotting so that the writer had to learn to condense, make rapid transitions, and so forth to the detriment of the final story. Some stories required too much text, both captions and dialogue, and all the panels became overcrowded which created a problem for the artist to depict anything. All the writer could do was to cram it in and let the editor cut where he could, which sometimes really hashed up a story badly.

  “Sometimes I would write a script halfway and then see it could never be finished in the amount of panels we had to work with, so I had to rip it up and start all over, grinding my teeth.

  “With different stories, I would often make a panel-by-panel breakdown for myself … but only if the particular story was a difficult one. These breakdowns would consist of key words and a description of the scene. This kept me from hanging in the air at the end of the story.

  “None of the scripts were ‘easy’ to write, as most people seem to think, being deceived by the story’s simplicity.”73

  Binder had discovered the challenges of writing for comics, and some of its frustrations, but he found himself well up to them—and, in fact, was having the time of his life. He had struck gold, and wasn’t about to complain about the effort and sweat expended in its acquisition.

  9.

  PLAYING THE FIELD

  With all the work he was getting at Fawcett, one might think that Otto Binder had his hands full. However, concurrent with his best-known work on the Marvel Family characters, he was also turning out dozens of stories for many of Fawcett’s competitors. (After Rod Reed left in mid-1943, subsequent editors may have feared that Binder would burn himself out of ideas for Fawcett characters, and began using other writers more, though Binder was still predominant.)

  With his former colleague John Beardsley ensconced as editor of Quality Comics, another top publisher of the Golden Age, Binder had an “in.” During the second half of 1942, he wrote adventures of Doll Man, Black Condor, Uncle Sam, Espionage, and Blackhawk. The following year, he worked once again for MLJ Publications, on the Shield, Black Hood, Steel Sterling, and the Hangman. As 1943 progressed, he added Harry Chesler’s line of comics to his client list, penning tales starring Dynamic Man and others. Aware of the success of Captain Marvel, other publishers no doubt hoped that by using Otto, a little of the magic would rub off. (It’s not clear how much of the work for other publishers was done through brother Jack’s shop.)

  Of all the outfits other than Fawcett who carried Otto’s work during World War II, the one he did the most for was Timely, the company owned by Martin Goodman that would eventually become known as Marvel Comics in the early 1960s. Binder worked for them mainly before Stanley Lieber, a.k.a. Stan Lee, had matured into the prolific writer that he became by the late 1940s, and while Lee was serving in the military.

  In October 1942, Otto wrote the origins of two new Timely characters, Captain Wonder and Tommy Tyme. He wrote numerous Captain America tales, including at least one with his arch-nemesis the Red Skull. Throughout 1943 and 1944, he produced scripts for the Whizzer (Timely’s answer to the Flash), more Young Allies, the Destroyer, Sgt. Dix, Sub-Mariner, and others. Many of them were tales of battling the Axis powers around the world, and the threat of saboteurs at home. Timely heroes were probably the most fixated on fighting the “krauts” and “nips” … often featuring the frenetic, unforgettable covers of artist Alex Schomburg. Binder found himself fitting into this overheated jingoistic milieu quite easily, ranking as one of Timely’s major scribes during the war.

  As if this wasn’t enough, OOB added another client: the Canadian comic book company Anglo-American Publishing. As of December 1940, with the passage of the War Exchange Conservation Act by the Canadian government, which restricted the importation of nonessential goods, American comic books could no longer cross the border. Overnight, several Canadian publishers popped up to supply the demand that had become well established. Robin Hood and Company, the first one published by Anglo-American of Toronto, appeared in March 1941. Most Canadian comics had color covers (often not on slick stock) and black and white interiors. Over time, their offerings improved, and Anglo-American added a series of new titles.

  Grand Slam Comics #34 (September 1944). Second appearance of Binder-created Commander Steel. ™ & © respective copyright holders.

  Knowing that the end of the war would lead to the return of American comic books, A-A attempted to improve their product to make it more competitive. They added interior color, and moved to obtain distribution in parts of the northern United States, which would be necessary for their survival. Part of this “upgrade” meant introducing new heroes. They looked to the United States for an experienced hand at comic book writing, and because they had dealings with Fawcett, Binder got to them first. He started work for A-A in April 1944. In fact, Binder probably co-created their new crop of characters, since he wrote the origin stories for Commander Steel, the Purple Rider, Terry Kane, and the Crusaders. These, along with the Toronto-based firm’s earlier character Freelance, are considered Anglo’s stars. According to Binder’s records, he wrote an astonishing one hundred and seventy-seven stories featuring these characters from April 1944 through August 1946. Unfortunately, Anglo-American’s sales dropped dramatically with the return of American competition, and in late
1946 they stopped producing new material. Henceforth, they became strictly a reprint house. The same fate befell the handful of other Canadian publishers when wartime trade restrictions were lifted.

  Keeping in mind that all this work for other publishers occurred when Otto Binder was writing the majority of the comic books featuring members of the Marvel Family—and that he would continue to produce at this sort of frenetic pace until the end of the 1940s—it’s hard to imagine anyone else who could have a greater claim on the title “Most Prolific Writer of Comics’ Golden Age.” He later addressed this subject in an article for Don Glut’s Shazam Annual in 1963.

  “During the incredible (even to me) time from 1941 to 1960, no less than 2,465 comics scripts spewed from four worn-out typewriters. An average of about 125 stories per year, ranging from 6 to 18 pages each (18-page stories were not uncommon in the early days when the 64-page comic books flourished).

  “Fantastic is perhaps the word for the total number of pages written, with five to eight panels each—32,000 pages all told, equal to 1,000 full 32-page magazines of recent years. My greatest productive year was 1944 … in which 228 tales were churned out on a smoking machine that I last remember melting away completely.

  “As to the total number of words banged down on paper—not only the visible few lettered in as captions and dialog but all the unseen-by-reader descriptions to the artist—I cannot guess. Nobody would believe it—including myself. I woke out of a daze around 1960, realizing I had in effect been a one-man assembly line for stories. A Shazamivac, so to speak, more closely related to the computer than to flesh-and-blood people.”74

  In 1944 Fawcett upped Binder’s payment to sixteen dollars a page. That year he made $17,500 writing exclusively for comics. Translated into 2015 dollars, today’s equivalent would be about $234,750.

  “We consoled ourselves, whenever harried scripters met, by calling it ‘the Golden Rut,’” Binder wrote. “Name credit, no. Fame, no. Satisfaction, no. Pride, no. Esteem, no. But money, yes. Yet to be fair, it was not Mammon worship in full. It was more like having a tiger by the tail, who wouldn’t let you go. Or maybe some vague motivation worked within me to become the Erle Stanley Gardner of comics, namely the most prolific producer. Sometimes such twisted drives can seize you.”75

  Otto toiled away at the typewriter, while Ione constantly rushed to the bank to deposit the checks. He wrote at a blistering pace, fleshing out the plots with action, dialogue, and captions that gushed up from the wellspring of his imagination as fast as his fingers could fly over the keys. Binder worked all day long in pajamas and a robe. “I was so busy I didn’t have time to dress and go out for days at a time—no joke,” he wrote in 1965. “When my wife was out and I answered the door for random salesmen and callers, I’m sure they thought I was a ‘kept man.’ True irony! I was working like a dog!”76

  Comics in the 1940s, unlike those of today, rarely published continued stories. Each tale had its own distinct plot. True, there were the early Fawcett crossovers like the Captain Marvel/Spy Smasher seven-part tale that began with the Spy Smasher story in Whiz #15 and continued in two parts through the following three issues—but this was an anomaly. The next time Fawcett tried a true serial, in 1943, it would last for twenty-five issues, and would become the best-remembered event in Captain Marvel’s illustrious career. It would also take the semi-whimsical tone of the series to its utmost degree.

  Adapting the popular movie serial format to comic books, Binder and Beck served up twenty-five chapters of “The Monster Society of Evil” beginning in Captain Marvel Adventures #22 (March 1943). ™ & © respective copyright holders.

  The Monster Society of Evil was inspired by the popular cliffhanger movie serials of the 1940s. Heralded on the cover of Captain Marvel Adventures #22 (March 1943) with the byline “Starting today! Captain Marvel’s smashing new mystery serial! Page 33,” the first page announces the title on a simulated movie screen, with kids in the audience letting out whoops of joy. The list of villains who would appear included the World’s Wickedest: Sivana, Ibac, Captain Nazi, Nippo, and others. Long before the hyperbole of Stan Lee in the 1960s, the splash proclaimed, “World premiere! A tremendous new serial with a colossal cast! Watch for a new chapter every third Friday! Exclusive in Captain Marvel Adventures!”

  Turning the page revealed a spectacular double-page spread of Captain Marvel symbolically standing astride the Earth, facing the villains who approached from outer space. An inset panel of Billy Batson announced, “Folks, I have a longer story to tell this time!! In fact, a story so long and involved that I don’t know the ending yet! Because, you see, Captain Marvel suddenly ran up against a menace so great that for once he knew his job could not be completed with a snap of his fingers! It’s about a strange being known as Mister Mind, leader of the insidious Monster Society of Evil! Who is Mister Mind? What is he?? Captain Marvel wishes he knew! If you have any information about him, please transmit it to Station WHIZ!”

  The mysterious villain was, at first, only revealed as a disembodied voice. “I am Mister Mind! Space is my home! I am the most evil being ever to live! And you, Captain Marvel … though you are earth’s mightiest mortal, I will crush you like an ant! Ha, ha, haaaa!”

  Thus began the first of twenty-five action-packed chapters, each ending with a cliffhanger, as the Big Red Cheese tries to ferret out the identity of Mr. Mind, while battling his evil minions against a backdrop of World War II. The action moves from continent to continent, from China’s Great Wall to Pearl Harbor to England, and even to Planetoid Punkus in outer space, where Mr. Mind has his home base. Captain Marvel relentlessly counters the schemes of the Monster Society, only to meet partial success at best. As Billy Batson, he is frozen into a solid block of ice, thrust into a cauldron to be eaten by cannibals, flung off a cliff, gagged innumerable times (so as to prevent him from saying his magic word) and more. As Captain Marvel wearily intones in chapter 4, “Good Gravy! No sooner do I break up one plot by Mister Mind than he has another one started!”

  It’s the revelation of Mister Mind’s true form that elevates what could have been a more or less ordinary series of adventures.

  Who was the mysterious Mister Mind?

  Even the writer didn’t know for the first five chapters.

  Binder later explained, “The CMA (Captain Marvel Adventures) brain-trust composed of Wendell Crowley as editor, Charles Clarence Beck as artist, and myself as scripter, got our heads together to figure out just who or what Mr. Mind should be, after I invented him as a disembodied voice.

  “We undoubtedly went through a hundred concepts, until somebody (and, frankly, in those skull sessions, I have no idea who first thought of any particular gimmick) … somebody said, ‘Why not take the most unusual thing we can think of? Not the traditional human or galactic villain, nor robot, nor this nor that of the routine masterminds, but just the goofiest of all things—maybe a worm!’”77

  After battling Ibac, Nippo, and Sivana in quick succession, Captain Marvel discovers Mister Mind’s identity in chapter 6 (although the readers glimpsed him briefly in the previous installment) when the villain attacks the skyscraper that houses Station WHIZ. On the roof, Billy’s pal Steamboat bites into an apple, only to find, “A worm in mah apple! But whut kind of worm is dis? It am wearin’ spectacles!??” Indeed, the little green worm not only wears eyeglasses, but has an amplifier box around his neck so that he can speak. (The character of Steamboat was dropped around 1945, when Fawcett was criticized for their stereotypical portrayal of a black man.)

  Now that Mister Mind was exposed, Captain Marvel exclaims, “So you’re a worm, you worm! You deserve nothing better than this!” Cap prepares to stomp the tiny villain into oblivion. “I’m sunk!” Mr. Mind thinks, “In another second Captain Marvel’s foot will crush me to a pulp! But wait—Mr. Mind doesn’t give up this easily! There is still a chance!”

  Indeed there was, and for nineteen more episodes, Mister Mind eludes the World’s Mightiest Mortal, while e
nlisting the aid of Adolf Hitler (in a broad burlesque of the real-life dictator), and luring Captain Marvel into all manner of deathtraps. Each cliffhanging chapter ends with a message to members of the Captain Marvel Fan Club written in the secret club code, giving hints of upcoming developments.

  In chapter 12, Mr. Mind on Planetoid Punkus fires a giant gun called “Great Big Bertha” at the Earth, trying to blow a thousand-mile-wide hole in North America. When Bertha’s enormous shell speeds toward Earth, and Captain Marvel is about to intercept it, Mr. Mind—who happens to be hiding in Cap’s yellow sash—thinks, “He might stop it yet! I’ve got to hinder this Red Cheese somehow! I know—I’ll tickle his ribs! Kootchy kootchy!” This sends the hero into paroxysms of laughter. “Hee, hee, ha, ha! I can’t stop laughing—and the shell is getting ahead of me! Oh, hee, hee, ha, ha …” Fortunately, Cap recovers his composure enough to give the tickling creature under his tunic a slap, and then to stop the giant shell at the last possible moment.

  It wasn’t the sort of thing one found in a Superman comic book, for the Man of Steel took himself quite seriously. This lighthearted tongue-in-cheek approach was unique to Captain Marvel—and, in fact, wasn’t nearly as pronounced in the adventures of Junior or Mary Marvel. Somehow, the humor didn’t detract from Cap’s heroism or credibility. It endeared him to his legions of fans.