The flame had been lit by Ossie Train, and this direct invitation from Oscar Friend set flame to kindling. If SF really was in an upswing, there was no reason why he couldn’t benefit from the trend. Friend was expansive: “We can doubtless sell you right now to a big trade publisher on a very nice arrangement for a series of book length SF or fantasy yarns,” Train prophesized.103 Binder agreed to let Otis Kline Associates represent him. He began to jot down story ideas, go through his unsold manuscripts, and try writing new stories. Perhaps Friend could find a publisher interested in collecting all the Adam Link stories into a book.
Unknown to Otto, such a book of robot stories was already in preparation. The author was a Russian-born émigré who had proven himself to be a precocious, voluminous writer: Isaac Asimov.
In 1939, somewhat inspired by both Lester del Rey’s “Helen O’Loy” and Eando Binder’s “I, Robot,” both seminal stories about robots with human-like traits, Asimov decided he “wanted to write a story in which a robot would be portrayed lovingly.” He writes, “And on May 10, 1939, I began such a story. The job took me two weeks, for in those days it took me quite a while to write a story. I called it ‘Robbie,’ and it was about a robot nursemaid, who was loved by the child it cared for and feared by the child’s mother.”104 Asimov eventually wrote numerous robot stories, and was wooed by Gnome Press to reprint them all in one book.
“On June 8, 1950, the collection was handed to Gnome Press, and the title I gave it was Mind and Iron,” Isaac Asimov recounted.105 Yet, when he got the proofs back, he found that the publisher Martin Greenberg had changed the title to I, Robot.
When Asimov told him that Eando Binder used that title for a famous story in 1938, Greenberg responded, “F— Eando Binder!”106 Legally speaking, a title in itself couldn’t be copyrighted. Greenberg was not, apparently, concerned a bit about the ethics of it. However, Asimov knew that using that title for his book would certainly invite confusion, and possibly criticism.
Asimov hastened to send Binder an explanation and an apology, making it clear that the change was not at his suggestion, nor even with his sanction. OOB treated it like a compliment, and gave his blessing to the use of that title on the Gnome Press book. The only recompense he asked was a copy of I, Robot personally signed to Binder by Asimov.
Later, Asimov provided a cover blurb for a 1965 collection of Adam Link stories (Adam Link—Robot) with these words: “To anyone fond of the robot story in science fiction, Adam Link is of extraordinary interest. The robot-with-emotion has rarely been so well-handled.”107 That tip of the hat to Binder was hardly a fair trade for the excellent book title that Asimov and his publisher appropriated, but it did prove helpful.
Meanwhile, Oscar Friend wasn’t having any luck selling Otto’s old SF to book publishers, or his new stuff to the ongoing pulps. New styles of SF had come into vogue, with Ray Bradbury leading the pack. Of Binder’s tale “Monster or—The Monster,” Friend critiqued, “Not a good title. A better one would be simply ‘Monster.’ This little story is too juvenile in presentation, of actual writing. This condition has been caused, I am sure, by the comics you have been turning out over the years. Hold it, pal! No criticism of comics is meant; just the frank statement that such work naturally affects your serious and adult science fiction output. ‘Monster’ just missed being good because it is too pulpy, too crudely juvenile in writing style. A guy like Kuttner, or Bradbury, or Leinster would have had a dramatic and suspenseful little yarn out of this. This fact makes me mad because you are as capable of writing slick adult tour de forces as any of these guys.”108
Then Otto Binder was approached by Sam Moskowitz with an appealing request. Moskowitz, a long-time SF fan and sometime writer, was to edit a brand new science fiction pulp magazine. He specifically wanted stories that harkened back to the “good old stuff” like the Eando tales of the late 1930s. Binder and Moskowitz hit it off personally, but they had a hard time getting in sync with each other professionally. Otto said, “Sam Moskowitz was then editing a new Gernsback magazine called Science Fiction Plus. He said, ‘Come on, Otto, write some science fiction.’ So I wrote maybe a half dozen things, and then they folded. I didn’t really have a desire to do any more after that. Part of it was that the rates for the science fiction pulps had never gone up over the years, like comics had.”109 The so-called “hot” market for SF in the late 1940s sputtered out. The pulps were just eking along, hardly in a position to pay their writers well. Ossie Train’s Prime Press declared bankruptcy in 1953.
Eight months away from writing comics proved to be just the tonic that Otto needed. He had time to catch his breath, look around, and consider his options. It seemed the most that he could hope for from writing SF was an occasional change of pace. There was no going back. In comic books Binder had cast his lot, and it looked like comic books would determine his fate. Ideas for new comics plots and story gimmicks starting coming to Binder again, and he was back writing the Marvel Family as well as looking for other comic book assignments.
Then, momentous news was announced sometime around Christmastime of 1951: Ione was pregnant. The Binders would finally have the child for which they’d yearned.
Whatever problems existed in their marriage were chased away by the “miracle child” that they were expecting. Now, it seemed, the last missing piece of the puzzle was falling into place.
Talk of Ione remaining in bed during much of her pregnancy suggests earlier miscarriages. But there was no difficulty this time, and on September 13, 1952, Ione delivered a healthy baby daughter, whom they named Mary Lorine Binder. The name honored both Ione’s mother, Mary, and Otto’s mother, Marie. (His “first” daughter, Mary Marvel, had also been a recipient of that family name.) Their daughter’s middle name came from Ione’s sister, Lorine.
Mary Lorine Binder.
“Otto and Ione were on Cloud Nine,” Bill Woolfolk recalled. “It was great seeing Otto so happy.”110 It was as if someone switched on a light in the center of their lives. Coming when Ione was 36 and Otto 41 made the child that much more precious.
Congratulations flowed, champagne corks popped, and cigars were distributed. Lots of family came to visit, and a parade of friends appeared at their door to meet the littlest Binder. Mary’s Uncle Jack and Aunt Olga, who had been there for the birth, were so happy they could have passed for the new baby’s parents. Without a doubt, the day Mary entered the world was the greatest day in the lives of her proud parents.
Naturally, not much was written about the details of Mary’s infant and toddler years, and nearly all who were there at the time are now long gone. Let us assume she passed all the milestones with flying colors, for Mary Lorine was a happy, thriving child—a charmer who let everyone know that she had a special feeling just for them.
In the first week of February 1953, the Binder home was the site of an important media interview. It’s not known whether it was instigated by Otto himself, or the reporter Gerry de la Ree. De la Ree was veering off from his usual job as a sportswriter to do this special feature for the weekend magazine of the Bergen County Evening Record. The two men had known each other for more than a decade.
De la Ree was a longtime science fiction and fantasy fan who lived in nearby Westwood, New Jersey. He had published Binder’s short treatise on the potential of the comics medium in his SF fanzine Sunspots in 1941. He later became known for publishing several volumes of artwork by renowned SF artist Virgil Finlay. The journalist, who dabbled in writing for comic books himself, was well versed on Otto’s credits as a science fiction and comics scribe.
The article, headlined “Captain Marvel’s Mouthpiece,” appeared on February 7. In the article, Binder is described as “the motivating force behind Captain Marvel and many other similar comics characters.” This was not strictly the case, but for the purposes of the article, it was accurate enough.
Of Binder, De la Ree wrote, “despite forty-two years [he] has the perennial college boy appearance,” and noted “he has a new for
m of distraction around the house these days in his four-month-old daughter Mary. His attractive wife Ione is kept busy attempting to restrict Mary’s vocal outbursts to a minimum.”111
The first thing on Otto’s mind—possibly the real reason for the article—was to address the attacks on comic books head on. He began, “There have been bitter complaints about the great deal of violence, blood, and murder in the comics. But I don’t think it’s any worse in the comics than on television or in the movies—or in such standard fairy tales as Jack and the Beanstalk or the classic Hansel and Gretel.” He acknowledged that some “less scrupulous outfits” do play up sex and violence. “But they rarely meet with any great degree of success,” he added.
Binder with his daughter Mary, ca. 1954. The Binder family members all learned to drink beer at any early age. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
From there, Gerry had Otto outline the process that he went through to write his scripts, including his weekly trips to Manhattan to meet with his editors. “Repetition of general ideas by sheer accident can’t be helped. You just try to avoid it. You try to devise unusual plots or situations and work out a new gimmick or twist. If the editor thinks your plot is too trite or overdone, he’ll request a change.” A sample page of a Captain Marvel script was shown.
The article, which spent several paragraphs describing Jack Binder’s old production shop, also offered the tidbit that Otto felt that science fiction could be the next major trend in comics. Binder had written a number of scripts for Standard Magazines’ SF comics Fantastic Worlds and Lost Worlds, and noted that National had introduced both Strange Adventures and Mystery in Space with some success. He had also adapted the movie Destination Moon into comic book form for Fawcett.
Fawcett Movie Comic #7 (1950), with the Binder-scripted adaptation of Gunmen of Abilene. ™ & © respective copyright holders.
Continuing sales slippage of their comic book line in the 1950s alarmed the Brothers Fawcett. Their staff dwindled until Otto was writing almost all the Marvel family material, and many of Fawcett’s Westerns and other books.
With regard to that slippage, in 1952 Binder wrote a memorandum to his editor Wendell Crowley and the Fawcett brothers outlining seven suggestions for increasing the sales of Captain Marvel Adventures. Although it isn’t known whether the memo was actually submitted, it reveals Binder’s mindset at the time. He wrote:
1. Keep abreast of times and present market with Korean War and horror stories.
2. Keep ads out of CMA, or keep the number of CM story pages as high as possible, so the kid gets his money’s worth and can’t compare CMA with Superman and find he gets much more there. (Publishers, please note.)112
3. Note to Beck—Why not go hog-wild on action in the war stories, and hog-wild on shocker scenes in the horror stories, and then settle back to his usual unique form in the other two stories? Thus giving a balanced book of variety.
4. Note to editors—It may be redundant to say it, but writers and artists, if they have any pride, want to give their best work. I believe Beck and I have always had pride in CMA. I suggest to the editors when “violent criticism” of story and art are out of proportion, it has the wrong effect. I think what we all need here is not to place “blame,” not try to establish who is “right” or “wrong”—but to achieve a sensible meeting of minds as to what is best for CMA. And that means “compromise” from all of us.
5. Since the entire market dropped recently with a dull thud, I think it obvious that CMA did not “deteriorate” all alone as to art-and-story. Other factors entered strongly. But I do suggest or agree that rather than sitting back and twiddling our thumbs, we attempt to “jack up” CMA according to modern trends.
6. I think on this point we can all agree—the stories should have more of Billy Batson and his doings and problems. I’m trying to get more BB in.
7. Suggest that the editors at times jot down story-ideas or plots, indicating what new trends or approaches they would like to see. The writer, for instance, is sometimes told to whip up something “new” and “unique” but with no real guidance as to what the editors mean, unless they themselves work up a “framework” or “blueprint.” I think that a smoother change or switch in editorial policy can be engineered by the editors if they work up something more tangible to go by. Any writer welcomes this black-and-white clear-cut interpretation or presentation of “new policy.”113
While Binder, Beck, and Crowley were obviously doing their best to counter the downward sales trend, forces gathered to render their efforts all for naught.
In an interview with Roscoe Fawcett for Fawcett Collectors of America, Paul Hamerlinck quoted Captain Billy’s son as saying, “The [National vs. Fawcett] lawsuits dragged on for years. There were three of them. We won the first, lost the second, won the third … but then there was a problem. One artist, I don’t know who, took either a page or panel from Superman comics and traced it exactly … and simply inserted Marvel where Superman was. That killed us.”114 Fawcett, whose legal bills had become a financial albatross, settled out of court. The amount of the settlement was about $400,000, and a promise by Fawcett never to publish Captain Marvel again.
“My reaction to DC as being the executioner was hardly of a friendly nature,” Otto said. “In fact, we were all pretty sore and bitter about it. It seemed so heartless and greedy; DC wanting to hog the market by killing off its closest rival … but then, that’s business, y’know. It stinks.
“The sadness over Captain Marvel and friends being tossed into limbo was [extremely] painful—particularly to my pocketbook. But money was not the only factor; I really had a lot of fun doing the Captain Marvel stories. When it all ended it took the sunshine out of my life for a long time.”115
Fawcett didn’t just stop publishing Captain Marvel. They got out of the comic book business completely. (Later they would reenter the field to publish the Dennis the Menace comic books that started in the late 1950s.) Yes, the comics starring the Big Red Cheese were still profitable. But many of their other books—especially their nonlicensed ones—were no longer in the black, and the brothers simply decided to stop publishing any kind of comic books.
The decision to discontinue their comic book line was made in autumn of 1953. The last Fawcett comic was probably The Marvel Family #89 (January 1954), with its unintentionally prophetic cover featuring the Marvel Family vanishing before a dismayed onlooker. Contracted work that never saw print, due to the sudden nature of the decision, was paid for. Otto was not only upset with Superman and DC but also felt like Fawcett hadn’t stood by the talent in their comic book division, nor honored their long devotion to the company.
The Marvel Family #89 (January 1954). The end of the Marvel Family, and the end of an era. Art by Kurt Schaffenberger. ™ & © DC Comics.
Fawcett Publications continued as a major publisher of magazines like True Confessions and Woman’s Day, and paperback books that were now coming into vogue. (Fawcett Gold Medal Books was the first major paperback original house, and a huge success that led to the meteoric rise of the paperback format in the 1950s.) Some of the editorial staff stayed on in the magazine division, but nearly all of the freelancers were left to fend for themselves. It was a sad, wrenching ending to a glorious comic book line.
Some of Binder’s Fawcett colleagues left comics for good. C. C. Beck moved to North Miami Beach, Florida, and ran a bar, then later joined Russ Smiley’s commercial art studio. He also worked for Willard Hurst and Bill Hays before setting up his own studio, the C. C. Beck Studio of Art and Design.
Bill Woolfolk formed J. B. Publishing Corporation, a publishing company in partnership with an art editor at McGraw-Hill named John Musacchia. “We sold [distributor] Kable News Company on four pocket-sized magazines, in the format of Quick.”116 Quick, a tiny magazine even smaller than a paperback book, was a sort of spin-off of the immensely popular Look, and had a big circulation. Another of Woolfolk’s was Steed, for car enthusiasts. Earlier, they had published Tops, Charles B
iro’s experimental large-sized comic book for adults.
Wendell Crowley was the most devastated, because of his affection for the Marvel Family and working in comics. Deflated and discouraged, he helped manage his family’s lumberyard (the Crowley-Taylor Lumber Company in Ridgewood, New Jersey)—which he detested—for the rest of his life.
Otto didn’t leave comics, but he had to scramble to stay afloat. Binder heard that EC (Entertaining Comics), publisher of Tales from the Crypt and Weird Science, was buying scripts from reliable freelance writers. This was the company that was owned by William M. (“Bill”) Gaines, son of the legendary Maxwell C. Gaines, founder of All-American Comics. EC was producing horror and science fiction comics of the highest caliber. Their product was consistently better written and drawn than that of their competitors.
By October 1953, EC editor and chief writer Al Feldstein was farming out more and more scripts, because he was running out of ideas and Bill Gaines was no longer helping him come up with springboards for new stories. Two of those freelance writers were Carl Wessler and Jack Oleck. In a 2002 letter, Al Feldstein explained: “As the comic book industry began to experience more and more negative publicity and criticism, Ray Bradbury first asked that his name be removed from the covers of the EC titles featuring adaptations of his stories, then asked us to cease their publication entirely. It was about this time that Otto Binder showed up at our offices. Timing is everything! I seized the opportunity to continue with what had been for us a rather successful and salable policy, adapting famous SF and/or horror writer’s work into comics. He showed me the ‘Adam Link’ stories … and I immediately saw in them a replacement of sorts to Bradbury.”117
Otto Binder: The Life and Work of a Comic Book and Science Fiction Visionary Page 13