Kirby: King of Comics

By Mark Evanier and Neil Gaiman

Filled with stunning artwork, this biography of comics pioneer Jack Kirby by an artist who worked closely with him is “a treasure” (The Cleveland Plain Dealer).

“As a teenager, future television and comics writer [Mark] Evanier became an assistant to Jack Kirby, one of the foremost artists in the history of American comics. Kirby played a major role in shaping the superhero genre, not only through his innovative, dynamic artwork but through collaborating with Stan Lee to create classic Marvel characters like the Fantastic Four, the Hulk and the X-Men. Evanier has now written this magnificently illustrated biography of his mentor. Rather than employing the academic prose that one might expect from an art book, Evanier, a talented raconteur, tells Kirby’s life story in an informal, entertaining manner . . . he brings Kirby’s personality vividly alive: a child of the Great Depression, a creative visionary who struggled most of his life to support his family. The book recounts how Kirby was insufficiently appreciated by clueless corporate executives and close-minded comics professionals. But the stunning artwork in this book, taken from private collections, makes the case for Kirby’s genius. A landmark work, this is essential reading for comics fans and those who want to better understand the history of the comics medium—or those who just want to enjoy Kirby’s incredible artwork.” —Publishers Weekly

Includes an introduction by Neil Gaiman

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Aug 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781613122563

Book preview

PREFACE

JACK KIRBY DIDN’T INVENT the comic book. It just seems that way.

It’s 1939 and he’s still a few years from establishing himself as one of the most important, brilliant innovators of an emerging form. He isn’t even Jack Kirby yet. He’s Jacob Kurtzberg, from the Kurtzberg family on Suffolk Street in not the best part of New York. At age twenty-one he’s trying to do the most important thing he believes a man can do: provide for his family, bring home a paycheck. Nothing else matters if you don’t manage that.

Much of the work in comics is done in shops—cramped quarters where artists toil at rows of drawing tables. The money isn’t good, but it’s good for a young man whose neighborhood has yet to see evidence that the Great Depression is ending. It at least beats selling newspapers or several other alternatives he’s tried.

So Jacob joins the throng of young artists wandering the streets, all toting large black portfolios crammed with samples. Most of the samples are variations (or outright plagiarisms) of the newspaper strips that had initially moved each to pick up a pencil. Eventually, the young men all seem to wind up working for Victor Fox . . . at least for a few weeks, until something better comes along.

Legend has it that Fox had been an accountant for Harry Donenfeld, publisher of Detective Comics and Action Comics. One morning, the story goes, sales figures came in on the first issue of Action, which featured a new strip called Superman by Jerome Siegel and Joseph Shuster. Fox saw the numbers, quit his job, rented an office in the same building, and by close of day was hiring artists as the head of Fox Comics, Inc.

A great story. It’s probably not true, but it’s a great story.

Fox is an old-time hustler/financier who’s spent years sprinting from one dubious enterprise to another. Most of the early funnybook publishers are like that—hardscrabble entrepreneurs lacking both class and capital. What will turn some of them into multimillionaires—and, ipso facto, into legitimate businessmen—is if they get their fingers on a smash hit. Say, if someone sends them a Superman or if Bob Kane walks in with the beginnings of something called Batman.

Or if, in years to come, they hire Jack Kirby.

Victor Fox will not be so fortunate, even though most of the great creative talents will pass through his office, some at full sprint. At first, he buys stories from a studio run by Will Eisner and Jerry Iger. After Eisner goes off and creates the Spirit, Fox sets up his own operation, placing ads in The New York Times classifieds to recruit a staff. His artists could work at home, but Fox feels that since he’s paying them, he’s going to experience the joy of treating them like dirt every day.

So they sit there, eight a.m. to six p.m. or later, filling up illustration boards—young men like Bill Everett (who would soon create the Sub-Mariner), Joe Simon (who, with Kirby, would create Captain America and dozens of other hits), and Charles Nicholas Wojtkowski (who had already created Fox’s anemic star super hero, Blue Beetle).

As they all race to finish at least three pages per day, Fox strides up and down the aisles with the posture of Groucho Marx, clutching his latest sales figures and muttering, I’m King of the Comics! I’m King of the Comics! Then he pauses at some artist’s desk, glances at work that as a former seller of junk bonds he’s eminently qualified to judge, and yells, That stinks! Work faster, you son of a bitch!

No one’s producing masterpieces . . . but then Fox isn’t paying for masterpieces. I’d draw a big cloud and a teensy airplane and that was the panel, Jake (soon to be Jack) would later recall. One time, he fills most of a panel by writing Wow across it, like a sound effect. Fox, pacing about, stops and asks, What the hell is that?

The young artist looks up at him and says, That, Mr. Fox, is ‘Wow!’

Fox studies the panel for a few minutes, shifting the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. I don’t get it.

It’s part of the story, Kurtzberg explains.

Fox nods in understanding, then calls all the other artists in the place to stop working and gather ’round Kurtzberg’s drawing table. Jake here is going to tell you about ‘Wow.’ Go on, Jake. Tell them about ‘Wow!’

Jake stammers out an explanation having to do with filling panels with energy and excitement, and how a word like Wow reaches the kids on their own level. And of course, all the artists understand that Wow is just Kurtzberg’s way of getting out of drawing a panel. Each of them nods, returns to his table, and immediately writes Wow across the next panel—no matter what’s supposed to be in there.

Fox is pleased. He’s not only publishing comic books, he’s publishing comic books with a lot of Wow in them.

Eventually, the King of Comics tires of getting up in the a.m. to let in the artists. He calls his crew together and asks who among them was ever a Boy Scout. I was, announces Al Harvey, a production artist who would soon establish the comic book company bearing his surname. Fox hands him a key and tells him, From now on, you open up.

Thereafter, Fox breezes in around eleven to begin berating his staff. But each morning before he arrives, the one-time Boy Scout and other artists take turns imitating their employer, pacing between the drawing tables repeating, I’m King of the Comics! Forever after, Kurtzberg and Bill Everett would greet each other with that impression.

CUT TO:

It’s the mid-sixties. Call it 1965. The Marvel Comics Group is publishing The Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, and The X-Men, among others. Jacob Kurtzberg has long since become Jack Kirby, the preeminent artist of action-adventure comic books. At the moment, he’s Marvel’s star illustrator and co-creator of a new Renaissance for the comic book business. He’s also the instrument of change for yet another catchpenny publisher who’s becoming wealthy. In this case, the firm is well on its way to becoming a multibillion dollar empire and a fixture of American popular fiction.

The shops long behind him, Kirby works at home and comes into New York City once a week to drop off pages at the Marvel offices. Less often, if he can manage it . . . because when he’s on the train he’s not drawing, and that’s what Kirby is still all about: providing for his family. He wants to do great stories and express himself and share his incredible imagination with the world, and all that is fine. But being a good provider is still Job One for him and always will be.

On one office visit he runs into Everett and they exchange Victor Fox impressions, a quarter century after the fact. They’re just discussing where to go for lunch when Editor in Chief Stan Lee walks up and shows Jack a new Bullpen Bulletins house ad. I’m gonna give you a real buildup, Jack, Stan says. See here? I’m calling you the King of the Comics!

Kirby and Everett fall over laughing. No, no, Jack protests. Make Bill Everett King of the Comics!

Everett will have none of it. Jack is definitely King of Comics, he argues. Lee sides with Everett, so Kirby is stuck forever with the nickname. For a long time this truly modest man is embarrassed by it. Eventually, so many are calling him King that he comes to accept it. Who knows? Maybe a little promotional gimmick will translate into higher take-home pay.

It is, of course, the perfect title for a book about Kirby, but Jack would have wanted everyone to know it was meant with a twinkle. Everything else about him was vested with power and planet-rocking explosions and cosmic energy and changing the world around him, leaving nothing the way he found it.

But the nickname? The nickname was only meant by Jack or accepted when it came with a twinkle. Always with a twinkle.

Marvel Bullpen Bulletins

Writer: Stan Lee

April 1967

Marvel Comics

Credits

FANTASTIC FOUR

no. 64

July 1967

Marvel Comics

Self-portrait

FOREVER PEOPLE

no. 4

August 1971

Art: Jack Kirby and Vince Colletta

DC Comics

ONE

IN THE STREETS

Super heroes have a way of arriving just when they’re needed and so did Kirby. Every time the comic book industry needed someone to kick it in the butt or in a new direction, along came Jack. He was like the cavalry with a pencil.

— WILL EISNER, COMICS CREATOR

THE FUTURE JACK KIRBY was born Jacob Kurtzberg on August 28, 1917, the son of Benjamin and Rosemary Kurtzberg, who resided on Essex Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Another brother, David, followed two years later, by which time the Kurtzbergs had moved to a slightly larger (but still cramped) Suffolk Street tenement house.

Their parents had migrated from Austria some time around the turn of the century. My father had insulted a member of German aristocracy, Jack recalled. The German, who was an expert marksman, challenged him to a duel. My father knew he’d be killed, so he decided to emigrate. All the relatives chipped in for the tickets. Benjamin, a tailor by trade, obtained intermittent employment in New York garment factories, often getting up before dawn to walk to work.

Even putting in relentless hours, Ben Kurtzberg had trouble making ends meet. From the time I was old enough to deliver papers, Jack recalled, "I was aware that the income was necessary. It was that way in all the families in our neighborhood. Whatever you could bring home counted.

But I was terrible at selling papers, he continued. You’d have to go to this building and pick up your papers from the back of a truck. I was the shortest guy and the other boys used to run right over me. He fared slightly better with an array of messenger jobs and sign-painting chores, but as each ended, he was back with the newsboys, jostling to claim his bundle. It was a metaphor for his life ahead.

The money helped the Kurtzbergs buy groceries, and his parents would allow him a few nickels for his own entertainment and enlightenment. Enlightenment, mostly. Young Jakie, as most called him, avidly read pulps, eagerly followed (and copied) newspaper comics, and frequently spent all afternoon at the local cinema. As he later explained, "The pulps were my writing school. Movies and newspaper strips were my drawing school. I learned from everything. My heroes were the men who wrote the pulps and the men who made the movies. Every hero I’ve written or drawn since then has been an amalgam of what I believed them to be.

Above and following page

Childhood sketches

Art: Jack Kurtzberg (age 17)

1934

Childhood sketch

Art: Jack Kurtzberg (age 18)

December 28, 1937

At times, I felt like I was being raised by Jack Warner. My mother would come and get me. She’d go to the doorman, and he knew which kid to drag out of the balcony. Even then, I’d plead with him, ‘Just let me see this next scene again.’ Those scenes still appear in my work.

Jakie soon became a member of the Suffolk Street Gang. Each street had its own gang of kids, and we’d fight all the time. We’d cross over the roofs and bombard the Norfolk Street Gang with bottles and rocks and mix it up with them. Years later, in the Fantastic Four comic books, Ben The Thing Grimm—an obvious Kirby self-caricature—would fight a running battle with a mob called the Yancy Street Gang. The references to Jack’s childhood—and skirmishes with the gangs of his childhood—would be unmistakable.

Then there was the Boys Brotherhood Republic, one of many organizations of that era founded to put restless youths on the road to solid citizenry. Young Kurtzberg was already well onto that path but he signed up because, as he later put it, It was a good place to make friends. In my neighborhood and with my height, I needed all the friends I could get. Jakie and his new acquaintances launched the club’s mimeographed newsletter, The B.B.R. Reporter. It wasn’t much of a publication—the members had to practically beg family and neighbors to buy it—but it did feature the earliest published cartooning by the future Jack Kirby. (The staff photographer, Leon Albie Klinghoffer, became a lifelong Kirby friend . . . right up until 1985 when Palestinian terrorists hijacked the cruise ship Achille Lauro and executed a wheelchair-bound American tourist. The world was outraged at the murder of Leon Klinghoffer, and Jack was more outraged than anyone over the loss of his friend.)

A meeting of the Boys Brotherhood

Republic. Jack Kurtzberg is at top right.

1935

STREET CODE

Above and following pages

STREET CODE

1983

Art: Jack Kirby

Lettering: Bill Spicer

All his life, Jack Kirby wrote and drew what others wanted. Sometimes, it was a matter of an employer choosing to put out westerns or war comics. At other times, it was Jack deciding some subject was what the readers wanted and would

Reviews for Kirby

[kslade-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Nice biography of one of my favorite comic artists who did a lot for Marvel.

[tobinelliott · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When I first started reading comics, somewhere around 1972, Kirby was the first artist that stood out for me. I could pick his art out from the crowd. His characters, while not anywhere near anatomically correct or particularly nuanced, pretty much exploded off the page. That impressed the 10-year-old me.

As I got older, I found other artists to love: John Buscema, Neal Adams, Dave Cockrum, John Byrne. But you can only have one first love, and for me, that was Jack Kirby.

This book serves as a great introduction to Kirby. I would have liked to see a bit more analysis of his work, what made his panels explode, how he influenced others, but as a primer, it doesn't get much better than this.

I didn't find this book as biased as a few other reviewers have stated. Of course the entire "who created / who wrote most of those early Marvel superhero stories?" question comes up a couple of times, but the author is pretty good at staying fairly neutral while presenting the opposing views.

And with the (finally) recent settlement between Marvel and the Kirby Estate, it's nice to see him getting his due from the company that he set on the path to greatness. So go back and read how he helped do it.

[seschend · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very quick read, as it's more a coffee-table book showing off Kirby's artwork. While fun, I'll be waiting for the more in-depth bio Mark Evanier's working on for later publication. This book is great if you've never gotten a good look at Jack Kirby's pencil work.

[burnit99 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A biography of and homage to the art of Jack Kirby, the creator or co-creator of several iconic Marvel and DC characters, such as Captain America, the X-Men, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four, Thor and others. He eventually became known as the "King of Comics", and in some ways it's a fitting title. He revolutionized comic book art and layout. But Kirby always saw himself as a craftsman of some talent, trying to earn a living. His desire to be treated fairly and equitably led to legal wrangling with Marvel and other comics companies. He died in 1994, his reputation secure as one of the most influential innovators in the comics medium. This book is a well-written and nicely illustrated compendium of his life and work.

[kcslade · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good biography on great comic book artist and innovator.

[chris177 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great book. Kirby was a great gift to the world!

[craso_3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I used to think of Jack Kirby as the comic book illustrator that started the coming-off-the-page-at-you type of drawing. His covers usually depicted a hero running at you or throwing a punch at you. I never realized what a skilled artist he was. I enjoyed the uninked drawings in this book better that the inked and colored ones. He put a lot of detail into his drawings. It seems like the ink and color just diluted the intensity. I admire him for his work ethic. Kirby was brought up to go to work and bring home a paycheck. He worried about making enough money to take care of his family, so he worked on two or three different titles at a time and at record speed. He was always out there looking for the next paying job.Like a lot of creative people, Kirby never made the money he should’ve. The writers were credited with the creation of the character and he was left out in the cold. It was nice to read that his fans came together, understanding how he had revolutionized the way comics are drawn, and helped him reap some of the rewards and accolades at the end of his life.