ORIGINS OF MARVEL COMICS By Stan Lee (Fireside)

THE APEX TREASURY OF UNDERGROUND COMICS Edited by Don Donahue & Susan Goodrick

A HISTORY OF UNDERGROUND COMICS By Mark James Estren (Straight Arrow)

Looking around at the world of literature today, comics may just be one of the last refuges of plot-oriented, entertaining fiction. They’ve also helped keep the faith for representational art whilst it went out of fashion. But mostly, comics are some of the best cheap entertainment around. Now, I’m not as old as Ralph Gleason, but I do remember when Marvel Comics used to cost a dime, and for that dime you got sophisticated scripting, dynamic drawing, incomparable inking, powerful pencilling, and antediluvian alliteration by Stan Lee, who coulda given Agnew lessons in that department. Recently, I’ve sort of let my interest in Marvel slide, partially on the advice of True Believers who tell me things ain’t what they usedta wuz in the Bullpen, but I’ve always had a special place in my heart for all their superheroes. Now, I find myself overwhelmed by Stan Lee’s collection of original tales, all in one volume, with his inimitable interlinears describing how each came to be. And, for contrast, one of the best of the later stories is added for each of the superheroes (Thor, Fantastic Four, Hulk, Spiderman, Dr. Strange) in the collection. No fan should be without -this book, and for casual fans like myself, the volume is invaluable, since it means I can go sell all those damn origin issues I’ve been sitting on and get rich!

Actually, if there’s one thing that sort of pried me away from Marvel, it was the rise of the undergrounds. Underground comics are now making a resurgence after going through some tough times, but when they first appeared they were like a breath of fresh air, liberating art and subject matter simultaneously, wildly satirizing everything and everybody. Oddly, there has been almost nothing written on them Up to now, and even now, What all we have is Mark James Estren’s History, and it is a deeply flawed look at the undergrounds.

Estren’s major problem is that the book is an expansion of a thesis written for a degree, and it retains a lot of that sort of feel, striving for completeness over any sort of critical overview. In a word, it’s fannish. Adulatory. And, like so much fan writing, it in no way reflects the brilliance and wit of the original. Take the illustrations out of this book and you’d never guess how interesting, funny, and socially relevant these comics are. Still, the book is the only word on the subject so far, and is recommended for students of the genre.

To really get am idea of what the underground fever is all about, pick up the Apex Treasury. It’s half the price, and it’ll remind you instantly of-that saw about one pic being worth a thousand words. Part of this, of course, is because they merely selected the very best works of eleven of the very best artists. But another part is the fact that they haven’t taken the easy way out, reprinting overfamiliar material, preferring instead to choose the best of the lesser-known stuff. Also, the underground - comic - as - sex - and - violence - pornography aspect is played down in favor of a much more balanced and accurate view. And, lest Estren’s turgid prose lead you to think that it’s impossible to write well about underground comics, Susan Goodrick’s introduction and interview with Robert Crumb will quickly change your mind.

If the Apex Treasury has one flaw, it’s that it’s not completely and exhaustively representative of the underground scene. Then again, it couldn’t be — they only reprinted stuff they had rights to, by artists they knew. Big deal — this book can only convince you that there’s a lot more to underground comics than Keep On Truckin’ and the Freak Brothers, and I suggest you go out and get it right away.

BILLION DOLLAR BABY By Bob Greene (Atheneum)

When a big rock group breaks up, the rumor mongers swoop down like ravenous buzzards. Soon the air is thick with their flapping wings, which effectively obscure the truth more than any planned cover-up.

Alice Cooper is an accidental exception. The reason is that a young newspaper reporter and columnist. Bob Greene, joined the band last Pecember to write a book about them. Greene’s idea was to travel with the band and write about what goes on behind the scenes in a rock tour, the same thing Robert Greenfield had done so well in S.T.P.: A Journey Through America With the Rolling Stones.

Greene had an added gimmick to go Greenfield one better: Instead of just traveling with the band as an observer, he actually became part of the band,

performing with them onstage and getting a fresher perspective on the rock and roll life. On Alice Cooper’s 1973 holiday tour — which turned out to be the band’s last in America, if you don’t count the “farewell tour” rigged up for early 1975 — Greene appeared in each show dressed up as Santa Claus, to be mugged by the band in the grand finale. Besides this performing bit, Greene also had good reason to believe the members of Alice Cooper would be much more open and talkative with him than the Rolling Stones were with Greenfield.

Boy, was he right! Because his Billion Dollar Baby is much more than just the best rock and roll tour book yet written. It’s also the chronicle of a band’s death throes.

The cast of characters would do credit to Shakespeare. There’s Shep Gordon, who would be all too easy to equate with Shylock. He’s oriented to the almighty dollar, all right, and if it means pushing Alice to celebrity status while keeping the rest of the band as shadow men, he’ll do it*. He’ll also connive, cover up and do virtually anything toward his goal. A closer parallel would be the old Charles Colson, who once said he’d walk over his mother if it was for the good of Nixon. But Gordon is a lot shrewder than Colson, and he was working for the good of the whole band as he saw it. Because of his vision, they are wealthy.

Greene doesn’t manufacture any villains (as Greenfield did) to heighten the drama. Even the sorriest characters in the book come off as three-dimensional humans. The most pitiful of all is Glen Buxton, who at one time was respected as the group’s best guitarist. Now as the result of drinking and other problems, he is despised and hardly more than a vegetable. Onstage, his amplifier is turned down, and an extra guitarist is hired to play his parts.

N^chael Bruce is the most frustrated. The athletic Romeo of the band, he envisions himself a serious musician who has made compromises for success. Now he sees the compromises turning Alice into a superstar and leaving him almost unknown.

Dennis Dunaway is the most likable, because he sees the situation clearly and accepts the reality of his role. Mildmannered, polite, he’s Mr. Nice Guy in the flesh.

TURN TO PAGE 80.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 67.

Not so Neil Smith, who is the archetypal rock star. All he wants is fame and glory, and he’s frustrated because he can’t find a chauffeur humble enough to suit him. His jealousy of Alice is nearly psychotic.

And what of Alice himself? He is the Hamlet of the piece. Although he got where he is by being revolting, he is now disgusted with his own act — and scared of his audiences to boot. He doesn’t know which way to turn and waits quivering for Shep to lead him to whatever’s next.

As the tour progresses, the plane of fools buzzes with greed, egotism, jealousy and cruelty. But even though we watch them at their worst, we also see the good sides, and most of all we see the underlying fear of the future, when the myth that Shep has built for them is gone. Besides capturing the atmosphere of a rock tour so well that you can almost feel you are part of the band, Greene has managed to penetrate beyond the stagecraft, and even beyond the macho offstage image, down to the human beings who are the raw material of rock stardom and often become the leftover debris. ^

Bruno Stein