Amazing Spider-Man #151. The Shocker

(Cover from December 1975.)

"Skirmish Beneath The Streets!"

Words by Len Wein.

Art by Ross Andru/John Romita.

Lettering by John Costanza.

Colours by Glynis Wein.

Symbolism. You can find it everywhere. Spider-Man flings his clone into an incinerator, and the last trace of the Jackal storyline's consigned to history. Despatched too with that deed is the Gerry Conway era that spawned it because, after thirty nine issues, the writer's gone for good.

And he'll be missed.

He had many flaws; a total disregard for anything that resembled logic, a love of ludicrous plot developments and a tendency to change his cast's characterisation to suit his story's whims, but he also captured a sense of those characters as real flesh and blood people, as well as pushing the strip in new directions, introducing a harder, more modern edge and revitalising it with the aftermath of Gwen Stacy's death.

It's amazing to think that, at this point in the title's history, a full thirteen years after Spider-Man's creation, the odd guest slot aside, the strip had had just two writers. Maybe that explains its surprising level of consistency and readability over such a long period. Or maybe it was just something inherent in the character and the set-up.

Regardless, right from the start of this tale, we're promised a new era, with Len Wein in charge.

And how have things changed in this new era?

Well, not a lot. In fact, it's a month for the return of familiar faces, with John Romita helping Ross Andru on the art chores, Harry Osborn back from the sanitorium and the the Shocker zapping things for no good reason. Not only that but we get the return of a familiar trope as Peter Parker can't go to a party without having to sneak away to deal with trouble. It seems like Wein was determined to make the "new era" as reassuringly familiar as he could - or maybe he just wanted to have fun playing with as much of the established train set he'd just inherited as he could. Either way, it's not yet a new era. It's business as usual and, bearing in mind the mostly classic status of what's gone before, who's really going to complain about that?

Despite the return of the Shocker - who happens to be one of my favourite villains despite never quite making the major leagues - centrepiece of the tale is actually J Jonah Jameson and his attempts to play host to Ned and Betty's engagement party. Needless to say, it's a task he's completely unsuited for as he orders his guests to drink nothing but Dr Pepper's and bans them from playing his records - and even sitting down. The other standout moment is Peter Parker changing into Spider-Man while hanging from a helicopter. Both are reminders that, even in a super-hero book, a scene doesn't have to be about action to grab you.

Amazing Spider-Man #150. The Spider-Slayer

(Cover from November 1975.)

"Spider-Man... ...Or Spider-Clone?"

Words by Archie Goodwin.

Pencils by Gil Kane.

Inks by Mike Esposito and Frank Giacoia.

Lettering by Joe Rosen.

Colours by P Goldberg.

Insomnia makes philosophers of us all. Most of us at some time have asked the question, "Why am I me?" Here, Peter Parker takes it one step further and asks, "Am I me?"

I suppose the obvious next stage in this evolution is to ask, "I me?" but, as that would make no sense, it's probably best we halt our quest for enlightenment there.

That's right, Peter Parker needs to know if he's the real deal or a mere clone of our hero. As with all of Spider-Man's biologically-based problems, there's only one way to find out.

And that's to go see Curt Connors.

That's where the story begins to get a little odd because, at this point, it starts to become a virtual re-run of issue #100, with an existentially challenged Spidey seemingly nodding off, to be confronted by a dream sequence of his old foes who he promptly despatches as each new one comes along. Writer Arche Goodwin even acknowledges this in a thought balloon.

The point at which it deviates is the point at which the Spider-Slayer turns up, and its driver Professor Smythe declares the foes to have been mere androids designed to wear our hero out before the attack proper. In other words, this is no dream.

Oddly though, even here, it still feels like issue #100. Needless to say, Spidey quickly defeats Smythe and realises, thanks to having had visions of MJ - not Gwen - when facing death, that he's not the clone. The clone was created before Peter began his relationship with MJ, by a man obsessed with Gwen Stacy. Therefore, Spider-Man reasons, his strong feelings for Mary Jane prove he's the original article.

Thanks to its distinctly second-hand nature, and the less than anticipated return of the Spider-Slayer, this is never going to be one of my favourite tales but it is a quite cleverly conceived one, allowing the old foes to represent the self-doubt that plagues him, with the Slayer as the ultimate embodiment of that urge. It also enables Peter to realise he's not a clone, in dramatised and direct terms rather than just have him sit around for twenty pages, waiting for the results of Curt Connors lab test. It's a story written by Archie Goodwin and, has a cunning behind it that I somehow couldn't envision from the now-departed Gerry Conway.

But Conway's not the only creative regular missing because, no offence to the always sterling Ross Andru but, on the art front, it's nice to see Gil Kane back, even if his presence does increase the issue's similarity to issue #100, also drawn by him.

Amazing Spider-Man #149. The Jackal and the Spider-Clone

(Cover from October 1975.)

"Even if I live, I DIE!"

Words by Gerry Conway.
Pencils by Ross Andru.
Inks by Mike Esposito.
Lettering by Annette Kay.
Colours by Janice C.

And so, like Alice, we're flung into a land that makes no sense.

The Jackal certainly doesn't. He's on a revenge mission against Spider-Man and has him captive, at his mercy. So, what does he do now he has him where he wants him?

He does the obvious. He runs out on our hero, telling him to meet him tonight at Shea Stadium.

Spider-Man's not making any sense. Upon being faced with a clone of himself - and the knowledge that a bomb's about to detonate, killing Ned Leeds - both versions of Spider-Man choose to fight each other instead of saving Ned.

Why are they fighting? Why have they decided that giving each other a smack in the mouth is more important than saving the life of a friend? Who can know?

For that matter, why did Professor Miles Warren choose to clone Peter Parker as well as Gwen Stacy? At that time, he could have had no knowledge that Peter Parker was Spider-Man and so no plan to use the Spider-Man clone against the original. For that matter, he hadn't yet killed his lab assistant, nor even dreamed of adapting the Jackal guise. So, why the extra clone?

Peter Parker's not making any sense. He heads over to the Bugle, hoping to catch Mary Jane alone.

Why?

Why does he expect Mary Jane to be at the Bugle, a place with which she has only tenuous connections and has hardly ever visited? And why would he expect her to be alone in a busy newspaper office?

And now - again - the Jackal's not making any sense. Upon being forced to face up the fact that it was he (Professor Warren), not the Jackal, who killed Serba, Professor Warren frees Ned, causing his own death.

Except that, in his flashback sequence, our villain has already declared that he, Professor Warren, not the Jackal, killed Serba.

The one thing that does make sense is that, realising, at the original Gwen's graveside, that she's not the real thing, the Gwen clone leaves, to make a new life for herself. At last some sort of logic. Happily for us, it also makes for a poignant climax and leads to Peter and MJ becoming closer than ever.

One thing that does impress me is Professor Warren's ability to multi-task. We've seen, repeatedly, over the years that Peter Parker struggles nightmarishly to balance his duties as Spider-Man with his need to keep up his college studies. Professor Warren, on the other hand, manages to raise and nurture two clones, develop a hi-tech costume, train himself to the peak of physical condition, hold down a job as master criminal and still not let it affect his ability to perform his duties as a college lecturer. Clearly, the man's a genius at time-management and someone Peter Parker could take more than a few tips from.

So, senseless it may be but is this story any good? As always in the Conway era, any sort of scrutiny tears it to shreds of a million colours but, as always, it achieves its prime function of entertaining you, so can hardly be labelled a total disaster. It's just so ludicrous from start to finish that, like a brand new bag of marsh mallows, you might be able to enjoy it but not in any way respect it.