“'The Night Gwen Stacy Died:' The End of Innocence & the Birth of the Bronze Age
Black Panther:
Within comics scholarship, as well as the comics fan community, there is an ongoing debate regarding the "Ages" within the genre, each of which denotes not simply an era of thematic content and change (increases in realism, violence, sexuality, etc.), but also economic forces. In the following, Blumberg examines one of the markers of these ages, the death of Spider-Man's college girlfriend Gwen Stacy. While other scholars argue for an understanding of "the Bronze Age" beginning and ending at disparate points, Blumberg argues for understanding the death of Gwen Stacy as an incontrovertible marker of thematic change for superhero narratives, and for our expectations of heroes. Following the high idealism of the Gold and Silver Ages, the Bronze Age ushered in a period of "realistic" drama and was a creative high point for Marvel Comics, the originators of heroes with feet of clay.
Black Panther:
“'The Night Gwen Stacy Died:' The End of Innocence and the Birth of the Bronze Age”
Arnold T. Blumberg
The time was 1973, and superheroes had some growing up to do.
<1> The signs were already there as the genre eased into its fifth decade as the dominant force in American comic books. 1968 had seen the introduction of Robert Crumb's Zap Comics [1], an underground comic more concerned with counterculture trends and bucking the establishment than chronicling the exploits of spandex-wearing conservatives. The medium was testing its boundaries, finding flexibility where once there had been rigidity, and soon superheroes began to look like a timelost collection of crusaders who spoke to a generation long since past.
<2> Stan Lee and Jack Kirby's Marvel Universe had made a huge difference, born out of the optimistic glow of the Camelot/Kennedy era and introducing much needed human elements into the cardboard cutout milieu of the superhero. Superheroes now reflected the emotions of their readers with far greater realism, in some cases serving as a surrogate family for fans [2], but radical change was needed before superheroes could mature along with their core audience and face the sobering realities of adulthood. The 1970s was to be a time of awakening for the four color fantastics and their feverish fans.
Black Panther:
<3> Early indications that the superhero world was changing came in 1971, when Lee and Marvel Comics brazenly dropped the Comics Code Authority seal of approval on a multi-issue Spider-Man story arc dealing with narcotics. The first such comics to hit the stands without CCA approval since its fascist-like implementation in 1954 [3], Amazing Spider-Man #96-98 (May-July 1971) brought us another fanciful showdown between Spider-Man and his arch-foe, the Green Goblin, while Peter Parker's best friend (and son of the Goblin) Harry Osborn struggled with a far more realistic danger--drug addiction.
<4> Having thrown down the gauntlet, Marvel opened the door to a new era in mature storytelling for superhero comics, and competitor DC Comics took up the challenge by echoing the Spider-Man story with one focusing on Green Arrow's sidekick Speedy, who had picked up a nasty heroin habit [4]. Social relevance was now to be the watchword for the superheroes of the Marvel and DC universes, and topics like racism, poverty, drugs, and other concerns of the day were filtered through the somewhat simplistic lens of the superhero [5]. Didactic in the extreme, with more than just a hint of sledgehammer moralizing, these tales nevertheless signaled a change in the genre. The superheroes were no longer flying above the crowds with their heads in the clouds; they were plummeting to Earth and dealing with the hard cold facts of life, and their readers were learning that even heroes couldn't always save the day. It was a lesson that would be thrown into sharp relief in a few short years, and once again through the auspices of Marvel and its flagship hero, Spider-Man.
<5> The early 1970s are often designated as the starting point for the Bronze Age of Comics, one of many arbitrary eras assigned by collectors in an attempt to classify and catalog the comic book world [6]. Certainly there are historic turning points that serve as landmarks--signposts whereby we can determine when one period of comic book history ended and another began. Perhaps the most traumatic of all is the event that many name as the single most memorable moving moment in collective fan recall, and one that also shuts the door on the light-hearted, carefree Silver Age even as it ushers in a time of maturation and reluctant self-awareness.
Black Panther:
<6> Marvel Comics had begun to explore the entertainment potential of more 'adult' fare with a line of monster themed comics focusing on the far more macabre corners of its fictional reality. Vampires, werewolves, shambling swamp monsters and flame-coifed demons of vengeance now roamed the same city streets trod upon by the Hulk, Captain America and Thor, and the once pristine Marvel Universe now knew the taint of evil in a way it had never encountered it before [7]. But that evolution from adolescent to young adult fantasy was about to accelerate out of control. Where the Silver Age was trumpeted by a flash of lightning and the birth of a new hero [8], the Bronze Age began with the smallest of sounds. It was the "snap" heard 'round the comic book world--the startling, sickening snap of bone that heralded the death of Gwen Stacy.
<7> Gwen, Peter Parker's girlfriend in the Amazing Spider-Man series, was originally a snobbish girl from a well-to-do background who softened and took an interest in Parker at just about the same time that the series artist changed from co-creator Steve Ditko to John Romita [9]. Giving Gwen feathered bangs and a distinctive hair band, Romita brought with him the skills he honed on romance comics for DC, beautifying Spider-Man's previously surreal Ditko-ized world and introducing a note of hope and love into his otherwise dark existence. Gwen was the bright spot in Peter's life--his spiritual center--and she became the first 'girlfriend' for many comic book fans who eagerly followed her relationship with Spider-Man's alter ego as much as they thrilled to his superheroic exploits [10]. She was as real as a member of the family--an empathy that creator Stan Lee was particularly adept at eliciting from readers. Seven years after her introduction to the Spider-mythos in 1966, writer Gerry Conway [11] would make use of that empathetic connection in an altogether startling way. The death of Gwen Stacy was the end of innocence for the series and the superhero genre in general--a time when a defeated hero could not save the girl, when fantasy merged uncomfortably with reality, and mortality was finally visited on the world of comics. To coin a clich�, nothing would ever be the same.
Black Panther:
<8> Emerging from an era of prosperity and hope into one of uncertainty and violence, America was growing up. Television brought the violence of the Vietnam War and its homefront ramifications into the lives of every family in the nation. The approaching dissolution of the Presidency and the sordid details of the Watergate conspiracy shattered American illusions about the incorruptibility of its own leaders. In short, the people of the United States were learning some hard truths, and if art is indeed merely a reflection of life, then the world of superhero comics--perhaps the purest iconic distillation of reality raised to mythic levels--was destined to encounter those truths as well. In one small corner of that fictional universe, in a parallel version of New York City, one hard luck fellow named Peter Parker was about to experience a mind-numbing tragedy that would symbolize the shifting tide of history and usher in the new age in comics. Gwen Stacy, the love of his life, was to be the sacrificial lamb in this tragic ritual.
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