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| Hawkman Vol. 1 No. 12 (Feb-Mar 1966) / Art by Murphy Anderson |
Article by Chris Gia
In comics, judging a book by its cover is not only natural, it’s the business model. The cover must command attention instantly, with a distinguishing image on a crowded newsstand.
A powerful cover communicates tone, genre, and urgency before the first panel is even turned. Hawkman’s covers, with their sweeping wingspans and mythic staging, exemplify this principle, demanding the reader not only notice but commit, convinced that what waits inside will soar just as high.
The Modern Comic Age begins in June 1961, when Marvel publishes its first title under the new corporate banner. And it’s one of the greatest artists of all time, Joe Kubert, who reinvented Hawkman for this new, exciting era on Brave and the Bold. However, it was Murphy Anderson, firmly ensconced in DC’s bullpen, who produced 44 covers in total and got the reins to start Hawkman.
Anderson was a craftsman, but hardly DC’s marquee stylist. By our standard at Fortress of Covers, his work on those early Hawkman issues feels dutiful rather than dazzling. Only with issue 12 (posted above) did he produce something that could be called a standout. And with Hawkman appearing once every two months, any momentum he built was destined to sputter.
Murphy drew the first 21 issues, but never did a cover that incorporated any other DC Super Hero. This is particularly interesting since Hawkman was a bona fide member of the Justice League of America.
Few heroes in DC’s pantheon carry the visual weight of Hawkman. From his earliest appearances, the winged warrior has been defined not just by mythic lore but by the sheer dynamism of his covers, where flight, battle, and raw symbolism collide. Hawkman’s cover art is a showcase of motion frozen in time. Wide, arcing wings rendered (but not with painstaking detail), ancient weaponry gleaming against bold skies (but not bold colors), and a figure poised between savagery and nobility. These covers were visual mythology, inviting readers into a world where the past and present clash unlike any other DC hero at the time.
By 1967, sales had stalled. According to the fine folks at comichron.com, we can estimate that Hawkman was moving under 100,000 copies per month, while Justice League of America was topping nearly 400,000. The math was brutal. Anderson was eased out. Enter Dick Dillin, who had 188 published covers for DC before he took over Hawkman.
He was responsible for House of Mystery, House of Secrets, My Greatest Adventure, Tomahawk, World’s Finest, Unexpected, and a 79-consecutive-issue run of Blackhawk.
The cover for Hawkman #22 by Dick Dillin is a sharp contrast to Anderson’s work on issue #21. Where Anderson leaned on classical restraint and elegance, Dillin drives the scene into pure chaos and motion. The composition is jagged and angular, hawks and talons slash across the page, wings collide, and Hawkman himself is thrust violently backward, nearly torn from the frame. Dillin’s figures often feel less refined, their anatomy exaggerated or even awkward, but that imperfection feeds the tension: the reader feels the instability, the threat of collapse. The cover text is integrated like a battle cry rather than a stately caption, reinforcing the frenzy. Compared to Anderson’s polished clarity, Dillin’s art exudes raw energy, sometimes messy, always urgent. A kinetic storm where the danger feels immediate and the violence inescapable.
But even Dillin’s storm of energy couldn’t rescue the title. Hawkman was cancelled, folded into The Atom, and ultimately put to rest with Joe Kubert’s hand on the final cover. For a character built on flight, Hawkman never quite escaped gravity.
Hawkman’s covers tell us more than the fate of a single title. They reveal the fault lines of an era. Anderson gave readers a vision of order, the superhero as monument, a figure fixed in myth. Dillin, by contrast, thrusts the hero into turbulence, all ragged angles and unresolved tension, as if the page itself were struggling to contain the action. Neither approach was enough to lift sales, but together they sketch the dilemma of the Silver Age. Should heroes embody timeless stability or shudder beneath the pressures of modernity?
Hawkman fell between those poles, too dignified to thrill, too chaotic to endure. In the end, the winged warrior became a casualty of his own iconography, a figure of grandeur whose covers soared but whose readership never followed.
It will be an astounding 18 years before DC launches the beloved Hawkman on his own book again.
In comics, judging a book by its cover is not only natural, it’s the business model. The cover must command attention instantly, with a distinguishing image on a crowded newsstand.
A powerful cover communicates tone, genre, and urgency before the first panel is even turned. Hawkman’s covers, with their sweeping wingspans and mythic staging, exemplify this principle, demanding the reader not only notice but commit, convinced that what waits inside will soar just as high.
The Modern Comic Age begins in June 1961, when Marvel publishes its first title under the new corporate banner. And it’s one of the greatest artists of all time, Joe Kubert, who reinvented Hawkman for this new, exciting era on Brave and the Bold. However, it was Murphy Anderson, firmly ensconced in DC’s bullpen, who produced 44 covers in total and got the reins to start Hawkman.
Anderson was a craftsman, but hardly DC’s marquee stylist. By our standard at Fortress of Covers, his work on those early Hawkman issues feels dutiful rather than dazzling. Only with issue 12 (posted above) did he produce something that could be called a standout. And with Hawkman appearing once every two months, any momentum he built was destined to sputter.
Murphy drew the first 21 issues, but never did a cover that incorporated any other DC Super Hero. This is particularly interesting since Hawkman was a bona fide member of the Justice League of America.
Few heroes in DC’s pantheon carry the visual weight of Hawkman. From his earliest appearances, the winged warrior has been defined not just by mythic lore but by the sheer dynamism of his covers, where flight, battle, and raw symbolism collide. Hawkman’s cover art is a showcase of motion frozen in time. Wide, arcing wings rendered (but not with painstaking detail), ancient weaponry gleaming against bold skies (but not bold colors), and a figure poised between savagery and nobility. These covers were visual mythology, inviting readers into a world where the past and present clash unlike any other DC hero at the time.
By 1967, sales had stalled. According to the fine folks at comichron.com, we can estimate that Hawkman was moving under 100,000 copies per month, while Justice League of America was topping nearly 400,000. The math was brutal. Anderson was eased out. Enter Dick Dillin, who had 188 published covers for DC before he took over Hawkman.
He was responsible for House of Mystery, House of Secrets, My Greatest Adventure, Tomahawk, World’s Finest, Unexpected, and a 79-consecutive-issue run of Blackhawk.
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The cover for Hawkman #22 by Dick Dillin is a sharp contrast to Anderson’s work on issue #21. Where Anderson leaned on classical restraint and elegance, Dillin drives the scene into pure chaos and motion. The composition is jagged and angular, hawks and talons slash across the page, wings collide, and Hawkman himself is thrust violently backward, nearly torn from the frame. Dillin’s figures often feel less refined, their anatomy exaggerated or even awkward, but that imperfection feeds the tension: the reader feels the instability, the threat of collapse. The cover text is integrated like a battle cry rather than a stately caption, reinforcing the frenzy. Compared to Anderson’s polished clarity, Dillin’s art exudes raw energy, sometimes messy, always urgent. A kinetic storm where the danger feels immediate and the violence inescapable.
But even Dillin’s storm of energy couldn’t rescue the title. Hawkman was cancelled, folded into The Atom, and ultimately put to rest with Joe Kubert’s hand on the final cover. For a character built on flight, Hawkman never quite escaped gravity.
Hawkman’s covers tell us more than the fate of a single title. They reveal the fault lines of an era. Anderson gave readers a vision of order, the superhero as monument, a figure fixed in myth. Dillin, by contrast, thrusts the hero into turbulence, all ragged angles and unresolved tension, as if the page itself were struggling to contain the action. Neither approach was enough to lift sales, but together they sketch the dilemma of the Silver Age. Should heroes embody timeless stability or shudder beneath the pressures of modernity?
Hawkman fell between those poles, too dignified to thrill, too chaotic to endure. In the end, the winged warrior became a casualty of his own iconography, a figure of grandeur whose covers soared but whose readership never followed.
It will be an astounding 18 years before DC launches the beloved Hawkman on his own book again.
Note from Hawkworld: Many thanks to Chris for a great article! We welcome Hawkfans who would like to write an article about the Winged Wonders! If interested, please write to Tim Board, houseofhawkman@gmail.com !
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