Multiversity’s history column returns with another batch of comic industry lore. This column’s theme is the month of April, and we’ll start in 1941 when a well-intentioned publisher entered the comic book ring to show everyone else how comics should be done. After that, we’ll swing by 1990 for a bad artistic swipe before stopping in 2020 for some pandemic pandemonium.
In 1941, the Parents Magazine Institute decided to take a stand against the crushing wave of comics filled with escapist fantasy aimed at children. Unlike most detractors of the material however, PMI head honcho George J Hecht was philosophically opposed to censorship or prohibition. He subscribed to the “if you can’t beat them, join them” mentality, which required him to offer different comic material as a substitute.
Thus, in April 1941, PMI introduced the first educational comic book, “True Comics”. The 64-page anthology was aimed at adolescents and covered historical events, scientific discoveries, and inspiring stories. The first issue featured a 17-page biography of contemporary world-leader Winston Churchill and was an instant hit with sales around 300,000 copies in just ten days.
The sales success continued leading PMI to offer two spin-offs in September 1941, “Real Heroes” and “Calling All Girls,” with the latter being the first comic aimed at girls. With a proven audience, other companies ventured into the educational genre, like Ned Pines’ Better Publications “Real Life Comics,” also in September. Gilberton Publications was the most inspired of the imitators, carving its own niche with comic adaptations of classic literature in “Classic Comics” (later “Classics Illustrated”) starting in October 1941.
Sales for “True Comics” remained high, with the company reporting an average circulation of 250k-300k in 1943. However, a majority of those units were part of bulk sales to schools or other institutions. PMI offered more spin-offs like “True Aviation Comics” (1942), “Calling All Kids” (1945), and “Sport Stars” (1946). In 1947, they experimented with “Negro Heroes,” two issues reprinting stories starring black people/characters from prior publications. This coincided with the release of Orrin Cromwell Evans’ “All-Negro Comics” and tied for the title of First Comic About Black People.
In a review conducted in 1943 at the request of Josette Frank, one of the earliest psychologists to weigh in on the pros and cons of comic books, the material in “True Comics” was found to be filled with inaccuracies and outright fiction. Hecht contested the findings, and it’s worth noting that the man doing the review was a former PMI editor and current employee of a PMI competitor (DC) during the review, so there is a real possibility of a bias. Frank stood by the findings, however, and the results (along with reviews of other comics) were published in the journal “Child Study.” It was seen by very few people, and there was no noticeable impact on sales.
“True Comics,” and the rest of PMI’s output, did well through the 1940s but closed up shop in 1950 amid the public outcry against comic books. In PMI’s hurry to discontinue, the last five issues of “True Comics,” numbers 80-84, were not distributed to newsstands. Those issues were mailed directly to subscribers only.
Comic artists have been using reference material since the dawn of the industry. Before the internet made image searches easy and instantaneous, artists would accumulate massive collections of photographs from newspapers and magazines for any subject they had drawn (or might one day draw): animals, uniforms, weapons, vehicles, settings, whatever. Most of these are generic and an artist would ideally revise the reference image to make it more suitable for his story through reorientation, stylization, or combination with other images. When an artist chooses a reference that isn’t obscure and he doesn’t disguise it enough, you get a situation like Jackson Guice’s “Doctor Strange” #15.
The issue was released to comic shops and newsstands in January 1990. As shown above, the cover’s background was a woman’s face drawn in a style far more photo realistic than the two characters in the corner. Guice’s reference for the background was the album cover for Contemporary Christian Music singer Amy Grant’s 1986 release “The Collection.” While the connection between the two images was missed by most of the public, the similarity did not escape the attention of Amy Grant’s managers. Not understanding how periodical comics work, they sued Marvel in April 1990 to stop distribution of a book three months after the publisher had quit shipping it and one month after newsstand retailers had quit displaying it.
Continued belowGrant’s legal team couldn’t sue Marvel for copyright infringement – the copyright belonged to the photographer – but they were concerned about Grant’s image being associated with magic, vampires, and the occult. The legal proceedings moved slowly, and an out-of-court settlement was reached about a year later. As part of the agreement, Marvel admitted no wrong doing. Later reproductions of the comic, such as it’s page at Marvel.com, replaces Grant’s face with a plain red backdrop.
Grant’s lawsuit is a good example of the Streissand Effect at work. As mentioned, “Doctor Strange” #15 was old news when the lawsuit was filed, as fans and retailers had already moved on to #18. However, the suit was reported far and wide, increasing consumer awareness of the issue and driving up the price in the back issue market. Issue 15 was part two in a five-part story, but it was selling for $7, more than four times as the surrounding $1.50 issues. That price bump was sustained over the medium term before settling down in 1993. Guice continued as the series’ artist until #24 in December 1990.
It was early 2020, the beginning days of the Covid-19 pandemic in the United States when virtually everyone was on board with “two weeks to slow the spread.” The patchwork of state and local responses dealt an uneven blow to the comic industry, with some stores unable to open while others had no restrictions. The supply chain was also off balance as some distribution centers were unable to operate despite having suppliers and customers who were unaffected. The whole situation was unexpected and hard decisions had to be made quickly with incomplete information.
In late March, Steve Geppi announced Diamond Distribution would cease operations and material due for release on April 1 would not be shipped. He made it clear the move was temporary but also indefinite. The shutdown would last “until there is greater clarity on the progress made toward stemming the spread of this disease.” Although the decision frustrated some retailers and publishers who were hoping to rush out some last minute product before closing themselves, it was also the only reasonable response because remaining open would have been both unfair to readers unable to keep up with new releases and economically devastating to stores who couldn’t receive new product at the same time (or even month) as their peers. Geppi also had to consider the previously announced closure of Transcontinental Printers, the supplier for comics for Marvel and DC. Diamond would have quickly run out of new product to ship for either of its two biggest clients even if it had remained open.
The sudden and massive upheaval exposed fragility in the system that had been known but ignored while it was functioning, namely the chokepoint of a single distributor for the majority of the industry. The problems were underlined by Diamond’s sudden change to its payment schedule at the same time, with money due to publishers and other venders also being postponed indefinitely. This prompted DC to break a 25-year exclusive partnership with Diamond, announcing plans to find alternative distribution almost immediately.
By April 20th, DC had found/created their substitutes: Lunar Distribution and UCS Comic Distributors. The change was swift and both were shipping new product by April 27. This product was available because DC also found a new printer: LSC Communications out of Missouri. There was swift concern voiced by retailers who learned that Lunar and UCS were newly-created affiliates of two large comic stores with strong mail-order presence already.
As seismic as these changes were, DC rocked the boat further by telling stores that received their product on Tuesday, April 28 to go ahead and sell it. New comic book day had been Wednesday for decades, and retailers had soundly rejected Diamond’s proposal to change it in 2010. Once regular business resumed, other publishers maintained the Wednesday standard. By August 2020, there was enough sales data for Jim Lee to declare DC’s changes a successful move that boosted sales.
There was rampant speculation about what would happen next and more big changes followed, but those are stories for another day.
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