A dramatic mainstay from radio's golden age, Gang Busters' cacophonous opening, full of screeching tires, blaring sirens, keening police whistles, and staccato gunfire birthed the common expression "came on like Gang Busters." Touting its adherence to authentic police case histories, it was in some ways the Law and Order of its day and it enjoyed a successful run from 1936-1957.

National's (DC's) adaptation of the show was also successful, running for 67 issues between 1947 and 1958. It fit neatly into the crime comics genre that was at the peak of its popularity in the late 40s and early 50s. The series largely eschews the more lurid elements that characterized crime comics of the era. The tone of the stories reflects a more establishment view of criminals as unglamorous villains and law enforcement as heroic crusaders who always get their man. It's clear that National was aware of Dr. Wertham's anti-comics crusade and chose not to invite scrutiny. They needn't have bothered. Wertham saved his ugliest comments for the publisher's comparatively innocuous Batman comics.

Where Gang Busters distinguishes itself as a comic is in the mind-staggering array of artists who contributed to the series, among them: Bernard Baily, George Roussos, Ruben Moreira, Jack Kirby, Mort Drucker and Frank Frazetta, as well as early National work by Nick Cardy and Curt Swan.


Like many other Atom Age crime comics, Gang Busters was an anthology series with few recurring characters. Every issue is a jumping-on point and boasts at least a few pages by a giant of the industry.

8. Glenn Scarpelli in Hollywood

8. Master of Kung Fu

(Marvel, 1974-1983)



I'll be honest, I haven't actually read all that much Master of Kung Fu yet, which is probably why it's only #8 on my list instead of higher. That will change soon, as I recently completed the run, so I'm just about ready to dig in.

Still, even a small sampling is enough to convince anyone that Master of Kung Fu is a series worth checking out, if just for the amazing art alone from the likes of Paul Gulacy, Mike Zeck, and Gene Day. Add to that some rip roaring martial arts adventures with more than a hint of James Bond-esque globe hopping intrigue and you have a pure winner.

The title's literary entanglements are well documented, as the decision to ground the series in the literary world of Sax Rohmer's Fu Manchu noel has been an ongoing rights headache for decades now. With a Shang Chi film reportedly in development, though, hopefully Marvel has figured out a way to smooth things over, or just erase Fu Manchu from the story going forward. Whatever it takes to get some more Master of Kung Fu!

8. EC Ray Bradbury Stories
EC, 1952-1954

A lot of Feldstein’s often verbose EC scripts showed an influence of Bradbury, so, after essentially ripping the writer off, it was obvious that Gaines and Bradbury would enter a formal arrangement.

The partnership worked out well (though I read recently that, when comics were really coming under fire, Bradbury's manager had him ask EC not to list him on the covers. Need to check that). Bradbury had suitable science fiction, horror, and crime stories that worked well in 6-8 pages, and EC’s artists usually brought their A game to the work, especially Wally Wood. And Bradbury’s rep meant that they could print “The Flying Machine” in a SF comic even though it’s not a science fiction story.





Bradbury's name also helped market Ballantine paperback EC reprints in the 60s (before reprinting ECs became an industry unto itself.)

Demon With a Glass Hand (DC Science Fiction Graphic Novel #5)
Written by Harlan Ellison, art by Marshall Rogers


I agree thwhtguardian's assessment of DC's graphic SF novels of the 1980s, but this one is my personal favorite. It's Ellison's own adaptation of his script for the now legendary episode of The Outer Limits from 1964. Most people here are probably familiar with the story - i.e., the protagonist only has a memory spanning a few days, but knows he's somehow from the future, and he has a hand-shaped computer encased in transparent material instead of a normal left hand. He's trapped inside a building by humanoid aliens who are trying to kill him, and he convinces a lone woman working there to help him as the aliens play cat and mouse with him throughout the building.

This is, of course, one of the truly iconic SF stories, and this graphic novelization was fantastically drawn by the late, great Marshall Rogers.

Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe: The Little Sister by Michael Lark (Fireside Books 1997)



I'm a huge fan of Raymond Chandler...and harboiled detectives in general.  I came across this book at a remainder bookstore that used to be in the outlet mall in Boise.  I used to stop there a couple times a year and they would periodically have some graphic novels and some other comics related stuff (I got the first two volumes of Flash Archives there).  

I was immediately drawn in by the Steranko cover.  But I was blown away by Michael Lark's artwork.  This is a pretty faithful adaptation of Chandler's novel.  And there almost certainly isn't a better artist for it than Lark.  His work just oozes the late 40s, early 50s noir feel.  It doesn't hurt that his is one of Chandler's best Marlowe novels even given the fact that the plot is Byzantine and Chandler was completely pissed off at the world when he wrote it. 

This is one of those happy lucky comic book buys that turns out to be a great thing. 

(Raises hand)

#8. Conan at Marvel...all of it.

I had a whole write-up for this which is currently sitting on my home computer while I type this on the fly from work. Like Coke & Comics, I wasn't initially interested in Conan. I didn't think I was interested in swords and sorcery, and I was sure I had no interest in some muscle-bound brute who solves all his problems with strength alone. So I avoided the property for a long time until it became inescapably clear that a ton of people around here with tastes I truly respect felt strongly about this series.

And so I checked it out. I bought the first Dark Horse volume and pushed through it. At first, I couldn't see the appeal. I didn't particularly like the character, and BWS was still figuring out his style. But, beginning with Tower of the Elephant, I got it:



Sure, later Conan could be incredibly wise and sane in comparison to the "civilized" world around him, but the truest magic of the series was its ability to glimpse into the unknown. Howard had a Lovecraft-inspired imagination, set in an action-oriented fantasy world, and that utterly fascinated me. It was less about Conan and more about the great unknown we'd experience this time around, and as some of the finest artists of the era took turns trying their hand at the property (note: I include the Savage Sword stories in this selection) it was brought to life even more beautifully and vividly than Howard's words had conveyed it before.

As an added bonus, I positively love the lens through which Roy Thomas views Conan. He has read EVERYTHING Sprague-Camp, has read EVERYTHING writen by and about Howard, and his order, continuity, and editorial comments all string together Conan's universe in a tight, coherent manner.

It's just such a rewarding experience.