The Spook: "Knucklebones to Fever Twitch" (from Eerie #58, July 1974)

art by Leopold Sanchez

my grade: A



Plot synopsis: On a slave ship, a brutal captain neglects his cargo so poorly that they all die. While the Captain tries to decide how to dispose of the bodies without the authorities discovering what he has done, The Spook arrives and begins enacting vengeance. He returns to the amoral hag that assists him, offering the fingers of the slavers so that she may make the dead slaves rise from the dead and enact a more complete vengeance. She does so, and The Spook blows up the ship after, ending their undead existence as a form of pity.

For two stories now, we've been waiting for The Spook to actually avenge the wrongs of slavery, and here, in Moench's final Spook script, we get what we've been waiting for. Not only is it one of the most guilt-free violence-ridden vengeance fests I've ever read (because these guys really deserved it):



it's also stunning in its depiction of the utter cruelty of slavery. Not having been around in the '70s, I'd always been under the impression that the specific hardships of slavery weren't really discussed or understood until Alex Haley's novel (and subsequent television adaptation) Roots put them out there for all to absorb. And yet, a full two years earlier, Moench is giving us all this:







It's so utterly powerful, so accurate, so unforgettably striking.


Once again though, after this powerful depiction is over with, the hag Jeesala steals the show.



So now it's not just voodoo magic -- her power, all this zombie stuff, and even The Spook's existence stems back to a deal with Satan? Fascinating. This is starting to feel very reminiscent of Satanna, Daughter of Satan (a Moench story I LOVED). Furthermore, Jeesala's need for souls in order to continue her existence



bears a striking resemblance to "Beauty is Only Blood Deep", the story Moench did about Elizabeth Bathory. Mass murderers, vampires, satanism, and zombieism -- Moench sees an intricate connection between them all. Fascinating.

Truly, this was a fantastic story through and through, only diminished by an abrupt ending that held none of the complexity and raw power of the twelve pages that came before it.

"The Thought and The Egg" (from Hot Stuf' #1, June 1974)

art by Ernie Colon

my grade: A+



Plot synopsis: A damsel in distress is about to be devoured by a dragon. She cries for help, but the dragon burns down her dialogue bubble and all the way through the page itself. Out of the hole pops a man who claims his name is "Help" and heard his name being called. Though without a weapon, he grabs the word "sword" to defend himself, but the dragon turns its own dialogue bubble into an egg from which hatches a second dragon that eats him. Fortunately, the bubble at the end stating "The End" also hatches, giving birth to a reincarnated Help as the narration declares "Hope is ever born anew."


Of all the runs I've ever acquired for the sake of a review thread, this one has been the most difficult to assemble and the most expensive by far (it turns out that seeking out obscure comics no one wants is harder than seeking out popular comics everyone wants), and Hot Stuf' #1 has proven to be the most difficult to obtain and the most expensive of the lot.



And yet, with obscure works by Ken Barr, Richard Corben, Rich Buckler, George Perez, and Ernie Colon, it was definitely worth the energy and expense. Now, while it was true that Moench was tireless in seeking out work wherever he could find it, he was also almost entirely without connections in the comic book world outside of Warren Publishing at this point, so how did he end up working alongside these greats for this particular publication? I'm assuming Richard Corben was the one who hooked him up with this gig, as Corben had only recently recruited Moench for his own self-published title, Grim-Wit. In fact, it really seems as though Corben called Moench up and asked him to do another story just like that one for this publication, as it utilizes the same absurdist humor and even begins in an almost identical fashion.

Here's the first page to the Grim-Wit story:




And here's the first panel to this one:



Both damsels in distress in medieval times, tied up, and faced with an approaching dragon. It appears to be a cliche that Moench enjoys toying with.


But whereas the Grim-Wit story was a little too silly/chaotic for my taste, this one adheres to a very specific kind of silly in which the fourth wall is broken, allowing the characters to interact with elements of the comic book page they shouldn't normally be able to see. Dragons can burn thought bubbles and even burn through pages, a character can grab the word "sword" out of his own thought bubble in lieu of an actual weapon



and empty thought bubbles can hatch like the eggs they visually represent




It's cute stuff, and Ernie Colon does it appropriate justice with his endearing art.


In the end, there's nothing complex, genius, or must-read about this little four pager, but it's unequivocally successful at what it strives to do.

Wow--I had both these books, being a Corben completest at the time, and never associated either with Moench. I remember the promo sheets at the NYC convention headed "Fantagor 5 will not be published" and announcing that Corben's work for the book would be in Hot Stuf' so I made a point of picking it up--don't remember if it was available at the con or if the sell sheet had mail order instructions. I do remember thinking that the Perez story, written by and "starring" the publishers being transported to "barbarian times" was the worst kind of fan tripe and marred what was otherwise a slick and professional-looking book.

"Medieval" stories like this were all over at the time, especially in the fan press, and too often in Warren books for my taste. They were both a precursor and a fall-out of Smith's Conan run.

But you're right that Colon does a very nice job on this. I can't seem to find any examples on the web, but for a while he was doing a series of wordless strips called doodlemovies that were very good.

"Forgotten Flesh" (from Creepy #64, August 1974)

art by Vicente Alcazar

my grade: B-



Plot synopsis: An economic revolution occurs in a graveyard, as the have-nots, buried in unmarked ditches, rise to expel the rich from their fancy caskets and take their places. At the same time, two poor grave robbers are there, stealing from the wealthy dead in order to economically survive. They are startled by the curator and accidentally kill him. In a karmic twist of fate, the revolting dead, sensing the grave robbers are poor like them, place them in wealthy graves and bury them alive.

It makes a better ghost story than a comic, somehow. The concept and karmic twist at the end are excellent but don't make for a sustainably entertaining piece, even when it's only eight pages long. Perhaps what's missing is Moench's usual visual premise driving the story. This is an uncharacteristically non-visual Moench script, or perhaps Alcazar just wasn't following Moench's notes (if there were any).

I will say that Moench's narration is firing on all cylinders here.



It's been a long time since we've seen the excessive and labored narration that was once coming across in nearly every Moench story. No $5 words here when they aren't called for. It flows, it's deep, and it isn't trying too hard to impress.


We can't discuss this story without discussing the cover and theme for this issue, though:



I respect the ambition Dubay showed in trying to take the Warren mags in new directions with interesting new concepts, and the concept for this specific issue was to have seven different creative teams create seven different tales about the same cover art.



But, of course, this was a backlogged Moench story. He'd been gone from Warren for half a year by this point and clearly wasn't writing this piece to suit Dubay's new theme. The zombies in this story look nothing like the guy on the cover and, even if they did, it wouldn't explain the space-age uniform he's sporting.

Again, I respect Dubay's vision, but I imagine it was hard to push your writers and artists in innovative new directions when they were being paid as freelancers. Technically, he wasn't their boss. So, it seems to me like he couldn't get all the stories he wanted about this creature and then used two Moench stories (yes, there's a second one in this issue) as filler.

I'll be curious to see if the second Moench story seems any more aligned with this issue's theme than the first.

Biographical Info: The Backlog Winds Down

It's worth noting that new Moench stories begin appearing less frequently at this point. Whereas, for the past six months, the backlog had been so plentiful that new Moench stories were still being published on a monthly basis by Warren (and sometimes twice per issue), that changes here, with the rate at which we're seeing non reprint Moench stories in Warren mags winding down considerably:

Fall and Winter 1974: 2 stories
All of 1975: 5 stories
1976: 3 stories
1977: 1 story


It remains fascinating to me that, four years after leaving Warren, they were still printing new Moench stories.

Must have been interesting for the common horror reader of 1974 to be finding so much Moench in both the Warren mags and their Marvel competitors at the same time.

"Pinball Wizard" (from Creepy #66, November 1974)

art by Richard Corben

my grade: A+



Plot synopsis: A local mob man is shaking up an old store owner, forcing him to take in some of his expensive vending machines that the store owner clearly does not need, beating the man in front of one of his most loyal young customers. The young customer, looking up to the store owner like a father, expects him to stand up to the mob man, but when he does so the next day when the Mob man wants him to put in a pinball machine that will crowd his aisles, the mob man kills him. The boy, discovering this, makes a pact with The Devil so that The Devil will spend eternity playing the mob man as the ball on a pinball machine in Hell.


I was starting to expect that we'd be scraping the bottom of the barrel with these final backlog stories, but how'd this one get in there? It's brilliantly deranged and, best yet, it's another Moech/Corben collaboration! And, once again, this Moench/Corben team-up has a distinct kind of energy you don't normally find in Moench scripts.

Ever since their first team-up on "Bright Eyes" (November 1972), several of us here have been engaged in speculation as to how much involvement Moench and Corben shared in the conception of these stories. Was it all or mostly Corben? Only half Corben? And then, by the time we got to "The Slipped Mickey Clip Flip" (July 1973), we had quotes from Moench himself indicating that Corben was given his scripts after they were already completed and that he only recalled speaking with Corben once to discuss writing a story for Grim-Wit (though I'm reasonably sure they spoke at least twice -- Corben getting Moench the Hot Stuf' gig).

Anyway, this story supports Moench's assertions that he wrote these pieces on his own. First off, it carries so many distinct signature Moench elements, including the clear visual premise (a guy pushing pinball machines gets turned into one) as well as a central concept borrowed from a '70s rock song (we even get the lyrics to Pinball Wizard in that final panel):



And, most importantly, Moench stopped writing for Warren a full year ago by this point. If he and Corben had created this together, I can't believe Dubay would have sat on a Corben piece for this long without publishing it.

Sure, this story continues to share themes and elements that we more commonly associate with Corben than Moench -- the sense of absurdity, the shocking amount of violence, and the disturbing contrast of childlike innocence and great evil



(seriously, who expected the sweet little kid to be an adept Satan worshipper???)

but I'm beginning to think Corben picked up these scripts because they contained those elements rather than having helped to put those elements there himself.

And, of course, it's always possible Corben made changes to the scripts as he penciled them, but considering that Moench has stated that Esteban Maroto was his absolute least favorite artist because he never followed his instructions, it seems odd for Moench to then call Corben his favorite artist to touch his stories (1) if he was making even more drastic and intentional changes to the stories than Maroto.


But even beyond those strange surreal elements that are standard fare for Moench/Corben team-ups, Moench's characterization is just absolute top notch in this story, from the amount of pathos he evokes for this child:



to the subtle verbal mannorisms of "Pop," the store owner:



You can barely hear the affectionate Eastern European accent behind those overly carefully arranged words and sentences.


And, thus, the tragic turning point of this story is all the more powerful, as well as brilliant in its visual understatement:




This story is a true masterpiece; one of the best of Moench's career thus far.




(1) Cooke, Jon. "The Peruvian Connection: Confessions of a Horror Writer." The Warren Companion. Vol. 1. Raleigh: Twomorrows, 2001. 118-125. Print.