While Otto Binder didn’t create Captain Marvel, he conferred on the World’s Mightiest Mortal the whimsical quality that would become his most beloved trait. What other writer would have had his hero defuse a volcano menace by sitting on it with his invulnerable buttocks? Or would finally smoke the villainous worm from his hiding place with the help of a pest exterminator?
Binder and company were shocked by the amount of mail about the serial that flowed into the Fawcett headquarters. Otto wrote, “We were truly amazed at the electrifying response. … letters pouring in … and believe me, with a readership of over one million as we had in those days, the mail can become pretty imposing. A rousing consensus simply loved Mr. Mind! Why? We never figured it out.
“The flood of letters, as a matter of practicality, set us to dreaming up new and more outré situations. … Of course, the sheer poles-apart contrast [between Captain Marvel and Mr. Mind] made for a wealth of ideas (as inspirations always do), so that the serial ran for twenty-four chapters before we decided, perhaps wisely, that too much of a good thing is bad.
Battling a worm isn’t as easy as one might think … especially if that worm is the wily Mr. Mind, who gave Captain Marvel and Billy Batson fits before he was finally captured … and executed. ™ & © respective copyright holders. Art by C. C. Beck.
“I won’t exactly say tears were in our eyes that day we worked up the final chapter and executed Mr. Mind [after his trial]; but, in all honesty, I think we all felt a ‘loss’ of some kind. You can’t write about any character for a length of time—worm or warm-blooded man—without a sense of sadness at ‘killing him off.’”78
The readers’ first look at the evil worm. Art by C. C. Beck.
“At times, ideas were dry and hard to get and almost obstinately stayed out of reach,” Otto wrote. “Other times the ideas flowed and I’d jot down half a dozen basic themes, though not all would be eventually usable. Writing is a lonely business and the labor of extracting ideas from your skull is by no means ‘fun.’”
A second attempt at a serial didn’t catch on. “The Oggar serial was really a flop, to be frank. It was again one of my ideas and it seemed to be great in my mind, but when it came to writing and developing the theme, it just sort of went nowhere and it was quickly killed after six chapters. That was how it worked: for every good idea, there were a couple of so-so ones. I would say that if one out of three of my ideas/plots/stories were outstanding, that was a great average and something to be proud of.”79
One of the outstanding storylines was the introduction of a talking tiger in Captain Marvel Adventures #79 (December 1947), by the name of Mr. Tawny. (He was given his first name, Tawky, in a name-that-tiger contest.) A Binder-Beck creation, Tawky Tawny appeared in twenty-three published adventures (only two less than the chapters in the Monster Society of Evil), though they didn’t appear consecutively. An origin was quickly concocted to explain how he had developed the ability to think and speak like a human.
Other editors might have balked at the idea of a talking tiger, but Wendell Crowley loved the idea. Captain Marvel was generally only incidental to the Mr. Tawny stories. They were really burlesques of Binder himself, which he wrote with great relish: Mr. Tawny goes on a diet, Mr. Tawny takes a personality test, Mr. Tawny wins a million dollars, and other stories of that ilk. Binder also found in Tawny the opportunity for Captain Marvel to defend his “different” friend from societal prejudice. The message that everyone, no matter who they are, should be accepted as an equal in society was a theme Binder had expressed earlier with Adam Link.
The appeal of Tawky Tawny lay equally in Beck’s inspired character design and his cartoonish art. Somehow, readers accepted the idea that a talking tiger existed in Captain Marvel’s world. (Mister Mind was a worm, but an alien worm.) The readers were easily able to make the leap, and they loved Tawky Tawny.
Another ongoing feature in Captain Marvel Adventures was Jon Jarl, Space Detective, a two-page text feature in each issue. Jarl, a sort of cadet version of Buck Rogers, began in CMA #66 (October 1946) with the appropriately titled “Adventure in Space.” These short prose tales, which appeared under the Eando Binder byline, gave Otto a place to make use of science fictional gimmicks that wouldn’t fit into superhero yarns, and make a little extra money in the process.
First appearance of Talky Tawny, from Captain Marvel Adventures #79 (December 1947). ™ and © DC Comics.
Most of the eighty-three stories, published over the next seven years, featured the dashing young lieutenant of the Space Patrol solving a problem or plot riddle on far-flung planets, moons, and asteroids—usually in rapid fashion.80 The surprise endings were often ingenious. Unlike most text fillers, these were widely read and enjoyed by the young Richard Lupoffs of the world, and probably a lot of older readers as well.
The end of the introductory Tawny story clearly sets it up as the beginning of a series of tales. ™ and © DC Comics.
Several qualities of Otto Binder’s comic book scripts distinguished them from those written by others. Superficially, one of the most obvious characteristics of Otto’s stories was the frequent use of science fictional settings, situations, and gimmicks. Later, he wrote, “A psychologist would say, I suppose, that [after being forced to give up my chemical engineering studies due to the Depression] I turned to the next best thing: fictionizing [sic] my ambitions. By far the greatest portion of all my pulp and comics writing has been oriented toward science and space angles.”81 An outstanding example is “Captain Marvel and the World of Your Tomorrow” which appeared in America’s Greatest Comics #7 (1943). Writer Klaus D. Haisch selected it as one of Cap’s best: “If there is one quality which sums up what makes Captain Marvel great, it’s not his powers, but imagination. ‘Captain Marvel and the World of Your Tomorrow’ (written by Otto Binder) shows terrific imagination in predicting what is in store in the next century. Some of the ideas—like the frictionless train on page eleven—compare to the trains which ride on a cushion of air now being developed in Europe, and are remarkably on target. Futuristic stories were always a terrific setting for the Captain.”82
The second most salient quality of OOB’s writing was his penchant for filling out the casts of his stories with either spin-offs of the hero, or important supporting characters who became part of the protagonist’s extended family. With the Marvel Family, he had moved the focus on family to the very center of Captain Marvel’s universe. Raised in a large family, Binder had derived a lot of his personal strength and support from his parents, brothers, and sisters. Just as he and Ione wanted a family of their own, Binder wanted his heroes to know the benefits of such connections, both in blood and in name.
Finally, there’s a childlike quality to his comics scripts that imbues them with a kind of naïve charm. The child in Otto still lived, alongside his adult self. He was innately able to write stories with strong appeal to younger readers—or those who were still young at heart—and did so with consummate craftsmanship.
10.
LIFE IN ENGLEWOOD
After four years of marriage, Otto and Ione Binder yearned for a house of their own. He had been in comics long enough to be convinced that the work wouldn’t dry up overnight. Thanks to proceeds from Captain Marvel and Otto’s other comics work, the couple were in the enviable position of being able to pay cash for a property.
Before the war ended, Bergen County, New Jersey, wasn’t yet heavily populated. The Binders settled in Englewood, a beautiful neighborhood with oak trees and lots of green grass. At the housewarming party in 1944, Otto Binder’s friends saw a sign, THE HOUSE THAT CAPTAIN MARVEL BUILT. (The Binders didn’t actually build the house. The sign’s message was figurative.)
Bill Woolfolk remembered, “When he bought the house, he said his hand was shaking when he had to make out a check that big. He could hardly sign it.”83
Located at 467 Voorhees Street, the white colonial-style structure with shuttered windows wasn’t overly large, but had plenty of space for the a
s-yet-childless couple. Half of the downstairs was taken up by the living room, and the other half by the formal dining room at the front and the (almost galley-style) kitchen in back. A door in the kitchen led down to an unfinished basement.
Ione decorated the house to match its colonial structure. There were floral prints on the walls, gray rugs with several pieces of antique furniture about. A large mirror was on the wall above the blue-patterned living room couch.
The house didn’t have a back porch, just cement steps down to the lawn, where a rock garden could be found. The fenced back yard was large, and there were plenty of vacant lots in the neighborhood where children could play. The Englewood school system was said to be excellent.
The bedrooms were upstairs. A narrow one in back, to the left as you reached the top of the stairway, was Otto’s writing studio. The part closest to the door housed a twin bed to the right, a long table on the left, and shelves everywhere (some up high, screwed into the walls) full of comics, pulps, books, and various Captain Marvel knickknacks. The far end of the room, through a standard door-sized opening, was Binder’s writing nook. The opening had a curtain that could be pulled across it. The west-facing window in Otto’s writing area made it very bright and sunny. Soon after he set up shop, the place would be notable for its pronounced odor of cigar smoke.
“The House Captain Marvel Built” at 467 Voorhees in Englewood, New Jersey. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
Otto dressed for work, in pajamas and robe, in his upstairs studio (ca. 1944). He kept copies of nearly all the pulps and comics with his stories, and other Captain Marvel paraphernalia. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
Ione did her best to be the perfect helpmate. While Otto was upstairs pounding away at his latest story (he was most productive between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m., though he sometimes returned for another session when deadlines were pressing), Ione did virtually everything else to keep the Binder household ticking along. A superb cook, she was always there with a snack or a sandwich for Otto. She paid the bills, cashed the checks, and mailed the scripts when he was too busy to go into Manhattan.
A year earlier, Jack Binder’s comics production shop had been decimated by the manpower shortage, and by wartime paper allocations, which hit the comics industry hard. Also, many of the publishers were producing their own material in-house, including Fawcett. While he had employed up to thirty artists and writers at a time at his studio’s peak, the shop had dwindled to half that.
After operating out of that legendary barn for about three years, Jack moved the shop to 507 Fifth Avenue in New York City, to be more centrally located, although Jack and Olga and their children continued living in proximity to Otto and Ione, a few miles north of Englewood in Demarest. Also nearby were many Fawcett staffers and freelancers, who were a sort of New Jersey comics clique.
Otto and Ione’s home became the locus of lively socializing between coworkers, both fueled by and contributing to the remarkable esprit de corps of the Fawcett folks and the men and women in Jack Binder’s shop.84 Many of them were in their twenties and thirties, and, though war raged in Europe and the Pacific Ocean, these creative people had the ebullience of youth on their side. They worked hard, played hard, and partied hard. “We were young men in the prime of our youth, with plenty of money and plenty of acceptance,” William Woolfolk said. “It was a great time.”85
Ione was the consummate hostess. She always managed to “make do” even with wartime rationing in force. Otto could often be found at the barbecue, or ensconced in a lawn chair with a cigar and a cold beer. He’d genially welcome one and all, and invite them to make themselves at home. While listening to music on the radio, and the news of the war, some of the folks would start a poker game, or throw a baseball, or whack a badminton birdie over a net. Often there were other Binders around, especially Jack Binder’s family, but most of those who came were from the comics industry by inclination or marriage: the Wendell Crowleys, the C. C. Becks, the Bill Woolfolks. Otto and Ione were in the wedding party of Kurt and Dorothy Schaffenberger, who were regularly in evidence. Wives and children were very much a part of the mix. (Otto eventually converted the basement into a rumpus room, to better accommodate their many guests when inclement weather chased them indoors.) Writers, artists, editors—mainly but not exclusively from Fawcett—would make themselves comfortable, and the fun would begin.
Ione and Otto, with Olga and Jack. Mid-to-late 1940s. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
In Jack Binder’s basement bar hoisting a few: Jack, C. C. Beck, Otto (foreground), and friends. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
After dinner, dishes were washed, cigars were smoked, and out came the musical instruments. Otto played accordion, Kurt Schaffenberger played concertina, and if they were inside, Ione led sing-alongs on the piano. Later still, the music subsided and late night bull sessions began. Naturally, the talk often centered on comics. They would talk into the wee hours about their dreams of doing a popular newspaper strip, or whether Alex Raymond’s Flash Gordon strip had deteriorated, or arcane creative matters such as how the length of a story affected its content.
Olga and Jack in the living room of their house in Demarest, New Jersey.
Courtesy of Michael Turek.
On weekends, or during lunchtime when Jack’s shop was in its heyday, someone would find an empty lot or field and a baseball game would be played. It was a great way to blow off steam after meeting a tough deadline. Otto recounted, “Mac Raboy was our star fielder. You wouldn’t expect that seemingly ungainly, rather morose, totally unathletic art high-brow to handle a ball and bat, let alone play well. But out on the field he was supremely graceful and could run like a deer after a fly ball. We began to hate him. What a ball hawk!”86
“To play a game, eighteen people were needed,” Bill Woolfolk recalled, “but often we could only get twelve or thirteen men together. So we had five women. That meant anything hit beyond the infield was a home run.”87
Of those halcyon days at the house that Captain Marvel built, Otto later said, “It was a golden time. We were having the times of our lives.” Then he added, “Or maybe we were just a bunch of drunks together.”88
Alcohol, in fact, had always been a part of Otto’s life. He’d developed a taste for beer as a young man. In their dialogue published in Fantasy Magazine in 1936, Otto and Earl took a break to find out if “Dad has any beer on ice.”89 They claimed the rest of the interview was done between beer swigs. Later, Otto had had to keep up with the legendary thirst of Otis A. Kline.
Otto and Earl Binder.
Courtesy of Michael Turek.
The Tureks had alcoholism in their family. Ione’s niece Patricia said in a 2002 interview, “We now know that alcoholism is a disease, and is handed down in families. The Turek family had it. It was also a family of secrets, where the truth rarely came out. That’s a perfect breeding ground for alcoholism.”90 Ione was susceptible.
Social drinking in the 1940s was pervasive, and was accepted as an appropriate adjunct to almost any occasion. Both tobacco and alcohol were seen as good ways to get minds off the horrors of war, or the deprivations it brought on the home front, or the pressures of work. People often drank and drove automobiles home, thinking nothing of it. Alcoholism was little understood, and one didn’t need an excuse to have a drink—or several drinks.
One of Otto’s favorite stories involved alcohol. “As a person, Rod [Reed] was superb … friendly, full of quips, warm, and full of laughs (I mean he laughed a lot). The only thing about Rod was trying to get away from him if you went to a bar with him. He wouldn’t let you go and kept buying the drinks. Loved companionship. I remember telling him once that I had heard a rumor that he had given up drinking. His answer to that was, ‘That’s a filthy lie!’ He was insulted at the very thought.”91
Otto had gained some pounds after World War II, and appears slightly pudgy in some of the photographs. This was undoubtedly due to the sedentary way he earned his living, and also attributable to Ione’s culinary skill
. In fact, he had come to resemble Captain Marvel—or, perhaps, vice versa. The original idea of Cap being patterned after Fred MacMurray gradually gave way to different facial features: round cheeks, a widow’s peak accenting wavy hair, and eyes that were reduced to mere slits. Beck never admitted that he was modeling the hero after his chief writer’s cherubic countenance, and if so, it may have been unconscious. In any case, these were the years when Otto was at the peak of his energy and creative powers—a superhero of a different sort. He was a happy man.
Just one thing was missing: the children that he and his wife dearly wanted. Even more then than now, childbearing was something expected by every married couple, and by their relatives, in-laws, and friends. If a pregnancy didn’t come in the first couple of years, there would be talk of doctors, and speculation about which partner was physically lacking. As the 1940s progressed, the question loomed larger and larger over the Binders’ marriage.
Otto Binder’s appetite for work was virtually insatiable. After he’d finished his Fawcett assignments, he incessantly beat the bushes for assignments from other comic book publishers. Bill Woolfolk recalled, “Otto never kept it a secret that he was working for companies other than Fawcett.” He also didn’t hesitate to tell his writer-friend Woolfolk which editors were looking for scripts. “As a matter of fact, Otto was generous that way. He recommended me over to Martin Goodman, where I met my second wife, Dorothy.”92
Otto Binder: The Life and Work of a Comic Book and Science Fiction Visionary Page 11