MIKE GOLD: Fantastic Fifty

Let me tell you a timely story.
Almost fifty years ago, my parents piled my sister and me into the car for a drive to DeKalb, Illinois. Since my sister was about to start college only three of us would be coming back. Always concerned about his children’s cultural upbringing, Dad stopped by a phenomenal bagel joint called Kaufman’s in what was Chicago’s Jewish neighborhood at the time. While he was stocking up on carbs, I was ordered to go across the street to an ancient drug store, the type that had a genuine soda fountain, three huge magazine racks and a separate and equally gigantic rack for comic books. My father disliked feeding my habit, but he wanted the drive to college to be as peaceful as possible and the best way to insure that was to buy me some comics. The stunt still works to this very day.
Sadly, as much as I scoured the racks I had read everything that was likely to catch my eye, and even some of the fringe titles such as The Adventures of The Fly, Our Army At War, and Superman’s Girl Friend Lois Lane. But I would be damned if I let such an opportunity pass. I discovered a sort of superheroish first issue from an unnamed company that I associated with monster titles that I generally passed over.
My dad came into the store to pick me up and pay for the damages. I gave him one solitary little pamphlet. One. He was amazed. “Only one?” I shrugged. “Well, we’ve gotta go, we’re late.” He literally flipped a dime across the room to the ancient man behind the counter and we began our hot, tedious trip with warnings to my young just-turned-11-years-old ass that I better shut up and behave.
I proceeded to read my one and only comic book. Within a couple pages, I was hooked. It was a monster comic, but it was also a superhero comic. It was drawn by a guy whose work I recognized and appreciated from his brief time with Green Arrow, Private Strong, and The Fly. By the time I finished the book-length story, which was rare in those days, I had already decided to reread it.
Several times, as it turned out. Dad and I both got lucky.

















