I am quite convinced that Ted Owens does possess some amazing kind of psychokinetic powers which account for the deeds listed. I have made a thorough study of psi-phenomena in general and therefore know the field. Ted Owens, to my mind, has psi-power potential that has not yet been used fully, which have apparently been bestowed upon him by the Space Intelligences. I know it all sounds startling but facts are still facts. Science has not yet caught up to the true mysteries of the universe, in my opinion.242
In reality, Binder still had doubts, at one point wondering if Owens’s ESP communication with the aliens was the aftermath of accidental brain trauma the man had experienced as a youth. Nevertheless, he was willing to entertain the possibility that Owens did possess special abilities, and that he might have received them from the Space Intelligences. (He began writing about Owens about the same time he discovered the writings of Konstantins Raudive.)
Part of the problem with writing the biography was organizing and absorbing the avalanche of clippings, reports, diary entries, and tape recordings. In the meantime, Binder made writing Mankind: Child of the Stars his priority, causing his communications with “the PK man” to taper off in 1973. As it turned out, Binder didn’t write a book about Ted Owens. According to Mishlove, “It was a disappointment for Owens that Binder was never able to begin [the] biography. Owens once mentioned that Binder was the only one capable of writing a book about him. As an added bit of irony, Binder and Owens … never personally met.”243
Given the circumstances that led to his financial situation in 1974, Binder must have asked himself whether life had cheated him, or whether he had simply made the wrong decisions. In the early morning hours in his boat, fishing for trout, surely he thought about his life, trying to figure out what if anything he could have done differently.
Had he chosen a profession other than writing, he might have earned a steadier income—but what child of the Depression would have turned his back on the earnings that came his way in the SF field, or looked elsewhere when the comics industry waved stacks of crisp greenbacks before him? The fact was that comics (and science) writing had paid the bills quite handily right up to the Space World debacle.
Unquestionably he had made a mistake in betting his financial future on Space World. It was certainly incautious to risk more than he could afford to lose on the enterprise. Yet there was opportunity staring him in the face: moving from hired hand to business owner, with an endeavor that was even dearer to his heart than his fictional writing. Who hasn’t heard the maxim, “nothing ventured, nothing gained”? It’s not difficult to understand why he was willing to take a huge chance on the magazine. The omens were favorable: Bill Woolfolk had done well for himself in publishing, and the space race looked to be the dominant theme of the 1960s.
What about his choice of mate? Could Otto have known, when he wooed and wed her, that beautiful, vivacious Ione Turek would one day require expensive mental health treatment for extended periods of time?
Could he have known that his daughter would be killed in a freak accident?
On these scores, it seems clear that Otto was not his own worst enemy. It was fate that had acted to crush his hopes and dreams. Perhaps he found some solace in knowing that he had done his best.
Some would blame the comics industry itself for Binder’s later lean years. If he had had health insurance, Otto could have better weathered the costs of his wife’s treatment. If DC Comics had paid him for the reprints of stories he had authored, the 1960s and 1970s would have been far more financially secure. But the business practices of DC at the time, however reprehensible or seemingly unfair, were in keeping with their competitors. The problem was industry-wide. Otto walked into the business with his eyes open, and saw it for what it was. Many left comics for greener pastures. He never did, except late in life, to venture into still choppier waters. He hadn’t asked for the life of a freelance writer, but that’s what came his way, and he gave it his all. Few found the level of success in comics that Otto did at his peak.
Death came unexpectedly for Otto Binder, in the autumn of 1974. Its calling card arrived in the form of a dire medical diagnosis. Otto had been in high spirits, for he’d finally engineered a publishing deal (the book with Max Flindt) that seemed like it could generate a sizable royalty check. In late September, however, he became ill with persistent flu-like symptoms. A doctor’s examination led to tests, which resulted in the news that he had cancer of the liver. It was a terminal diagnosis.
Max Flindt recalled, “We talked [on the phone] after that. We had become close friends by that time, despite the fact that we never met in person. He told me of his cancer, that he didn’t have much time. Otto and I really got down to brass tacks.
“One of the last things he said to me, was ‘Max, I really think you should pay very close attention to the UFO field in the coming years. I think it will be very revealing.’”244
From diagnosis to death, liver cancer often takes its victims within a few months. It’s not a pleasant way to go. Fortunately—mercifully—Otto was spared this ordeal. He died suddenly, probably in his sleep, a couple of weeks after receiving that diagnosis. He was found on a couch—possibly the same one where Tom Fagan, Randy Cox, and Frank Miller sat while interviewing him just a year before. The coroner determined that the cause of death was heart failure. The date was October 14, 1974. Otto was sixty-three years old.
Now, finally, there were no more deadlines to meet. No more bills to pay. No more worries about Ione. No more tears for Mary.
Otto was free.
In his personal life, heartbreak and disappointment stalked Otto Binder. Their cumulative effect hit him hardest when he was fifty-six years old. While it’s undeniable that Binder’s particular “American tale” ended in the shadow of tragedy and loss, one must not lose sight of the half-century that preceded the downturn in his fortunes.
Binder achieved financial success in both the SF and comics field, and succès d’estime in science writing and ufology. His family by all accounts was a loving, supportive unit, and his marriage was one of love and mutual caring. He was held with great respect and affection by his colleagues and friends. Many have been given less time in the sunlight of familial affection and professional achievement.
Even when sorrow overcame him, and his spirit was nearly crushed, Binder never became bitter. He continued to nurture creative souls like himself, and showered love on his many nieces and nephews. Despite the effect tragedy had on him, Otto was still Otto: stalwart companion; loving husband, brother, and uncle; and encouraging mentor. Holding on to his essential self in the face of everything was a significant personal triumph.
19.
LEGACY
The graves of Otto, Ione (who died twenty years later, in 1994), and Mary Binder are located in the George Washington Memorial Park in Paramus, New Jersey. They are buried side by side. Like everyone else there, they are under a simple, flat marker—the same broad marker for all three, joining them together.245 Ione’s brother Frank is buried in these same grounds, not far away. It’s a beautiful, peaceful spot.
The New York Times obituary on Saturday, October 19, 1974, read:
Otto Binder Dies;
Science Writer, 63
Otto O. Binder, a science writer, long associated with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration and who had published more than 40 books on space and allied subjects, died Monday. He was 63 years old and lived in Chestertown, N.Y.
Otto would have been pleased that his area of greatest recognition was for his science writing, for science turned out to be his truest, most abiding vocation. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t become a legendary figure in the history of comics, or an important investigator and reporter of UFO phenomena. He has.
Otto’s obituary in Locus, the newspaper of the science fiction field, was written by Richard A. Lupoff. It appeared in #167, their November 20, 1974 edition. “The recent death of Otto Binder is not likely to create much of a stir in the science
fiction world,” Lupoff said. “Otto’s SF writing was mostly done in the 1930s, and although a number of his books popped up again as paperbacks over the past few years, his presence was felt more in other fields. He had many friends in the science fiction community, however, and was highly regarded by those who knew him.
A single gravestone demarks Otto and Ione on the left, and Mary on the right (Patterson, New Jersey). Courtesy of Michael Cassiello. (Additional thanks to Jack C. Harris.)
“He never achieved a high degree of literary polish—something that wasn’t really needed in the early pulp days, of course—but his contributions to the field, particularly those of the Adam Link and Via Etherline stories, helped others along to achievements greater than Binder’s own.”
The Buyer’s Guide to Comic Fandom ran obituaries by several columnists and contributors in the January 1, 1975 issue. Murray Bishoff wrote, “We remember Otto Binder most of all as a comic book writer, certainly the best [the] industry has ever known. His greatest achievement was his work for Fawcett on Captain Marvel and company. According to Jim Steranko’s statistics, Mr. Binder wrote fifty-seven percent of the entire Marvel saga. That took skill, but more importantly, that took vision, and a big heart. We can never forget the contributions of this one man who, more than any other writer, forged the direction of comic books for a long time to come. Thank you, Mr. Binder, for everything.”
Don and Maggie Thompson said, in their Beautiful Balloons column, “We are saddened to learn of the death of a giant in the comic book field, a major force in the science fiction field of thirty years ago, and a dear friend to the Thompsons personally. We had not seen Otto in years but held him in high regard. Those who read All in Color for a Dime (Arlington House, 1970) may have noticed that the book is dedicated to Otto. It was an awfully small tribute to pay to a man who gave us all so much pleasure.”
In that same TBG issue, Martin Greim wrote, “I first came in contact with Otto about two years ago when Bob Cosgrove, Al Bradford, and I invited him and his brother Jack to be guests at Boston’s New Con. Because of illness in Jack’s family they were unable to attend, but a correspondence was struck up between Otto and myself. Due to the fact [that] his local stores didn’t carry DC’s Shazam!, I began supplying Otto with these issues, starting with #1. We had a lot of laughs over the way Capt. Marvel was being handled. I finally met Otto and his brother Jack in person … when I planned issue #15 of Comic Crusader. I can honestly say that Otto and Jack had to be two of the most interesting men I’ve ever met. I’d only known [Otto] a short time, yet it seemed I’d known him all my life. It was a true pleasure knowing this man! Perhaps that is the best tribute anyone could pay him.”
Patricia Turek said, “The whole Turek family loved and admired Otto. I feel so fortunate that we were able to spend time together. He opened up a part of my mind—my imagination. I will always be grateful to him for that.”246
In an article entitled “Otto Binder As I Remember Him” that appeared in Rocket’s Blast-Comicollector #115 (December 1974), C. C. Beck wrote, “What Otto did was write stories … strictly from his imagination, not from any vast experience as a reporter nor as a student of current events. I remember a discussion between Otto and another writer named George Scullin when both were working with me and Pete Costanza in our comic-production studio in New York.
“‘If,’ George said, ‘I were to receive a thousand dollar advance for an article on life in Africa, I would use the thousand dollars to buy a ticket to Africa. I would live in Africa and study life there for six months. Then I would write the article. What would you do, Otto?’
“Before answering, Otto put a match to the tobacco in his pipe. He puffed and snorted, but his pipe refused to light. He tapped its contents into an ash tray and put the pipe back into his pocket. Pete, George and I still waited for Otto’s answer. Finally it came, and it was as down-to-Earth, sensible, and realistic as Otto himself was.
“‘I would put the thousand dollars in the bank first,’ Otto said. ‘Then I would go home and write the whole article from my imagination.’
“That was Otto.”
At Binder’s request, his files (correspondence, notes for story ideas, manuscripts both published and unpublished) were bequeathed to Sam Moskowitz, a venerable SF fan, writer, and publisher, who made a home for them until his own death. They were then acquired by the Cushing Memorial Library at Texas A&M University.
Ione Binder continued to live in the Chestertown house as long as she could, but Otto didn’t leave her with much—perhaps only the check for $3,900 for Mankind: Child of the Stars, which probably arrived shortly after Otto passed away. Eventually she accepted the fact that she couldn’t afford to continue living there, and moved in with her brother Frank’s family in Norwalk, Connecticut.
In 1978 Ione wrote, “I am happily employed as a legal secretary.” Of her move from Chestertown, she recounted, “I sold everything, antiques and all, and started fresh. I am still in touch with many New Jersey friends, have made new ones too. DC Comics sometimes sends me a small check. And I also receive checks once in a while from a reprint. Otto must be so happy for me!”247 Ione passed away at the age of seventy-six on May 10, 1994.
Since Olga had passed away in 1976, Jack Binder lived alone in their Chestertown house. In December 1983, he sent a long, chatty letter to C. C. Beck. He wrote, “When Olga died, it was a while before I got used to living alone. Bonnie and Frank [Mundy] wanted me to live with them, but for me it was difficult to leave my home, as I was still quite active in my work. Also I had a large workshop on the back lot where I could build things for the grandchildren, such as little night tables and bedsteads and wall decorations. It’s wonderful to have a loving family.”248
Jack had a massive heart attack on January 1, 1986, though quick family intervention brought him back from the brink. Bonnie attributes it to a phone call from her daughter Angela, who was an exchange student in Brazil. As she related, “My father was sitting in the recliner, and I stood behind him just patting his head which was totally cold. Our friend Bill, a physician’s assistant, took his pulse and said, ‘Not good.’
Ione Binder and nieces Elizabeth and Patricia, ca. 1978. Courtesy of Michael Turek.
“Then the phone rang. It was Angela, and I said to my father, ‘It’s Angela. Do you want to talk to her?’ ‘Of course I do!’ he said. So he and Angela had a conversation. All during that time, I kept my hand on the top of his head. All of a sudden, his body started to warm up, so I motioned to Bill, who checked his pulse again. He said, ‘Hey, he’s alive again!’” He made it past that crisis, but only for a couple of months. On March 6, 1986, his heart gave out. Jack Binder was gone.
Probably the greatest testament to Otto Binder is the fact that a great deal of his work remains in print (or is readily available in the collectible market), forty years after his passing. Some of these stories appear in the classy hardback books in the DC Archives series. Others are in the numerous trade paperbacks from that same publisher, most often those featuring the Superman family of characters, but also reprints of the original Captain Marvel stories.
Binder’s Golden Age Captain America work is part of one of Marvel’s most prestigious reprint sets. His EC stories, too, all have been reprinted in recent years, finding a whole new generation of readers. There’s no danger of his best work being lost. Those stories are read by comics fans with the same reverence that archaeologists studied the glyphs on the Rosetta Stone, and they will continue to be enjoyed in the years to come.
Otto Binder was inducted into the Will Eisner Hall of Fame in 2004, and was given the Bill Finger Award (for excellence in comic book writing) in 2010. No higher honors exist in the comic book realm.
Otto Binder was posthumously inducted into the Will Eisner Hall of Fame in 2004.
Binder’s place in the SF firmament is less certain. While he wrote many outstanding stories for the pulps, it’s likely that he will be remembered mainly for the conception of Adam Link. But, w
hen the film I, Robot (starring Will Smith) was released in 2004, it stated only that it was “suggested by stories by Isaac Asimov.” No mention was made of the man who originated the film’s title.
Is there a common thread that runs through Otto’s work? Perhaps not thematically, since the body of work is so diverse, but when one stands back and considers it as a whole, what emanates is a fundamental sense of decency. He was a gentle man who felt a keen responsibility for others: his family, his community, his world—and this shines through in everything he did.
Otto was a giver. He gave all he had to the cause of earning a living and entertaining generations of readers who, like him, loved the realm of the imagination. He spent the better part of his life alone in a room with his typewriter, writing words of wonder that gave joy to millions.
EPILOGUE
WHERE ARE THEY NOW?
He only had two biological children in his lifetime, but by his nurturing and supportive actions, Otto Binder extended a hand to six younger men who came into contact with him through comics fandom. Since they are prominently featured in this biography, and each actively contributed to it in his own way, it seems fitting to provide a little information about what happened to them—and some of Binder’s other friends and colleagues—after Otto’s passing.
Richard A. Lupoff, who published Xero and wrote the seminal essay on Captain Marvel, “The Big Red Cheese,” set his cap on becoming a professional, self-supporting writer. He did, becoming first a successful SF writer, and then as an author of the Hobart Lindsey-Marvia Plum mysteries. The first in the series was The Comic Book Killer. Today he and his wife Patricia live in Berkeley, California, where he continues to write fiction and criticism while serving as Editorial Director of Surinam Turtle Press.
Otto Binder: The Life and Work of a Comic Book and Science Fiction Visionary Page 26