The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America

The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America

by David Hajdu

Paperback(First Edition)

$21.39 $23.00 Save 7% Current price is $21.39, Original price is $23. You Save 7%. View All Available Formats & Editions
Choose Expedited Shipping at checkout for guaranteed delivery by Wednesday, October 23


The story of the rise and fall of those comic books has never been fully told — until The Ten-Cent Plague. David Hajdu's remarkable new book vividly opens up the lost world of comic books, its creativity, irreverence, and suspicion of authority.

In the years between World War II and the emergence of television as a mass medium, American popular culture as we know it was first created—in the pulpy, boldly illustrated pages of comic books. No sooner had this new culture emerged than it was beaten down by church groups, community bluestockings, and a McCarthyish Congress—only to resurface with a crooked smile on its face in Mad magazine.

When we picture the 1950s, we hear the sound of early rock and roll. The Ten-Cent Plague shows how — years before music — comics brought on a clash between children and their parents, between prewar and postwar standards. Created by outsiders from the tenements, garish, shameless, and often shocking, comics spoke to young people and provided the guardians of mainstream culture with a big target. Parents, teachers, and complicit kids burned comics in public bonfires. Cities passed laws to outlaw comics. Congress took action with televised hearings that nearly destroyed the careers of hundreds of artists and writers.

The Ten-Cent Plague radically revises common notions of popular culture, the generation gap, and the divide between "high" and "low" art. As he did with the lives of Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington (in Lush Life) and Bob Dylan and his circle (in Positively 4th Street), Hajdu brings a place, a time, and a milieu unforgettably back to life.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780312428235
Publisher: Picador
Publication date: 02/03/2009
Edition description: First Edition
Pages: 464
Sales rank: 600,118
Product dimensions: 5.40(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.10(d)

About the Author

David Hajdu is the author of Lush Life: A Biography of Billy Strayhorn and Positively 4th Street: The Lives and Times of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Mimi Baez Fariña and Richard Fariña.

Read an Excerpt


Sawgrass Village, a tidy development about twenty-five miles east of Jacksonville, Florida, is named for the wild marsh greenery that its turf lawns displaced. It has 1,327 houses, each of them pale gray on the outside. On the inside, the one at 133 Lake Julia Drive is a dream shrine—a temple not to the past, like many other homes of retirees, but to a life imagined and denied. All the walls in its eight rooms, as well as the halls, are covered with framed paintings by Janice Valleau Winkleman, who moved there from Pittsburgh with her husband, Ed, in 1982, when he ended his four-decade career in sales (first, chemicals, then steel products). She had been painting almost every day for nearly thirty years. Having shown artistic talent at an early age, she had taken some formal training in fine art and illustration, and, at age nineteen, she began working professionally, drawing for Quality Comics in Manhattan. Then, one evening eleven years later, she came home from work and never went back.

For more than fifty years after that, Winkleman made no mention of the fact that she had had artwork prominently published as Janice Valleau. Her daughter Ellen grew up reading comic books without knowing that her mother had once helped create them.

In 2004, the Winklemans’ living room held seventy-four paintings—vigorous watercolor seascapes with violent waves, rendered in heavy blues and blacks; an acrylic of two seagulls suspended in flight, positioned upright in a golden-brown sky and surrounded by other gulls darting about them in every direction; watercolor after watercolor of old sailing ships, moldering in dry dock; a few abstracts of angular shapes and patterns done in pastel; portraits of exotic, alluring young women, one of them topless, with her face either unfinished or painted over. The images—at once lovely and tortured, all skillfully done but madly varied—could occupy a graduate art student or a psychoanalyst for some time.

At age eighty-one, Winkleman was a fragile woman, weakened by age and illness, though she still painted when she felt up to it, usually one or two days each week. “I like art—it’s important to me,” she said in a small but firm voice. Her eyes were bright behind grand, squarish glasses that covered most of her face. She sat straight-backed in a thin-cushioned metal chair that went with the desk in a half-room that also had her easel and taboret, a few boxes of art supplies, and a tea set. Her hands formed a teepee on her lap. She wore a pressed linen house dress and well-used tennis shoes, and she kept her legs crossed tightly with her calves angled back under the chair, as if to hide the shoes. Hanging in a frame on the wall to her right was the original pen-and-ink art to the first page of a Blackhawk comic-book story drawn by one of her old studio mates, Reed Crandall. In the days when they were working together, Winkleman had sneaked the page home in her portfolio, because she admired Crandall’s dynamic compositions and sure line.

“I wanted to be a magazine illustrator, but I loved comics, too,” she said, pointing her teepee toward the Blackhawk page. “I would have been happy being in any kind of art at all.”

Why, then, had she stopped working professionally half a century earlier? The paintings all over her house show that Winkleman had the skill and the versatility to have done commercial illustration. She had the experience in comics and the affection for the medium to have continued in that field. With the imagination she applied to some of her canvases, she might even have pursued fine art professionally. Why not?

“My God,” she said. She separated her hands and slapped them on her lap, then slowly brought them back together. “I couldn’t go back out there—I was scared to death. Don’t you know what they did to us?”

In the mid-1940s, when Janice Valleau was thriving as an artist for Quality Comics, the comic book was the most popular form of entertainment in America. Comics were selling between eighty million and a hundred million copies every week, with a typical issue passed along or traded to six to ten readers, thereby reaching more people than movies, television, radio, or magazines for adults. By 1952, more than twenty publishers were producing nearly 650 comics titles per month, employing well over a thousand artists, writers, editors, letterers, and others—among them women such as Valleau, as well as untold members of racial, ethnic, and social minorities who turned to comics because they thought of themselves or their ideas as unwelcome in more reputable spheres of publishing and entertainment.

Created by outsiders of various sorts, comics gave voice to their makers’ fantasies and discontent in the brash vernacular of cartoon drawings and word balloons, and they spoke with special cogency to young people who felt like outsiders in a world geared for and run by adults. In the forties, after all, the idea of youth culture as it would later be known—as a vast socioeconomic system comprising modes of behavior and styles of dress, music, and literature intended primarily to express independence from the status quo—had not yet formed; childhood and young adulthood were generally considered states of subadulthood, phases of training to enter the orthodoxy. Comic books were radical among the books of their day for being written, drawn, priced, and marketed primarily for and directly to kids, as well as for asserting a sensibility anathema to grown-ups.

Most adults never paid much mind until the comics—and the kids reading them—began to change.

During the early postwar years, comic books shifted in tone and content. Fed by the same streams as pulp fiction and film noir, many of the titles most prominent in the late forties and early fifties told lurid stories of crime, vice, lust, and horror, rather than noble tales of costumed heroes and heroines such as Superman, Captain Marvel, and Wonder Woman, whose exploits had initially established the comics genre in the late thirties and early forties. These unprecedented dark comics sprouted from cracks in the back corners of the cultural terrain and grew wild. Unlike the movies and the broadcast media, comic books had no effective monitoring or regulatory mechanism—no powerful self-censoring body like the film industry’s Hays Office, no government authority like the FCC imposing content standards. Uninhibited, shameless, frequently garish and crude, often shocking, and sometimes excessive, these crime, horror, and romance comics provided young people of the early postwar years with a means of defying and escaping the mainstream culture of the time, while providing the guardians of that culture an enormous, taunting, close-range target. The world of comics became a battleground in a war between two generations, delineating two eras in American pop-culture history.

“Comic books are definitely harmful to impressionable people, and most young people are impressionable,” said the psychiatrist Fredric Wertham, author of an incendiary tract, Seduction of the Innocent, which indicted comics as a leading cause of juvenile delinquency. “I think Hitler was a beginner compared to the comic-book industry.

“The time has come to legislate these books off the newsstands and out of the candy stores.”

Churches and community groups raged and organized campaigns against comic books. Young people acted out mock trials of comics characters. Schools held public burnings of comics, and students threw thousands of the books into the bonfires; at more than one conflagration, children marched around the flames reciting incantations denouncing comics. Headlines in newspapers and magazines around the country warned readers: “Depravity for Children—Ten Cents a Copy!” “Horror in the Nursery,” “The Curse of the Comic Books.” The offices of one of the most adventurous and scandalous publishers, EC Comics, were raided by the New York City police. More than a hundred acts of legislation were introduced on the state and municipal levels to ban or limit the sale of comics: Scores of titles were outlawed in New York, Connecticut, Maryland, and other states, and ordinances to regulate comics were passed in dozens of cities. Soon, Congress took action with a set of sensational, televised hearings that nearly destroyed the comic-book business. Like Janice Valleau, the majority of working comics artists, writers, and editors—more than eight hundred people—lost their jobs. A great many of them would never be published again.

Through the near death of comic books and the end of many of their makers’ creative lives, postwar popular culture was born.

Page-one news as it occurred, the story of the comics controversy is a largely forgotten chapter in the history of the culture wars and one that defies now-common notions about the evolution of twentieth-century popular culture, including the conception of the postwar sensibility—a raucous and cynical one, inured to violence and absorbed with sex, skeptical of authority, and frozen in young adulthood—as something spawned by rock and roll. The truth is more complex. Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry added the soundtrack to a scene created in comic books.

It is clear now that the hysteria over comic books was always about many things other than cartoons: about class and money and taste; about traditions and religions and biases rooted in time and place; about presidential politics; about the influence of a new medium called television; and about how art forms, as well as people, grow up. The comic-book war was one of the first and hardest-fought conflicts between young people and their parents in America, and it seems clear, too, now, that it was worth the fight.

Excerpted from Ten-Cent Plague by David Hajdu. Copyright © 2008 by David Hajdu. Published in March 2008 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews

The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America 3.8 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 23 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
More like the ten dollar plague
Guest More than 1 year ago
David Hajdu's book 'The Ten-Cent Plague' is an instant classic of research into the world of comics and a classic study of the social hysterias that seem to erupt occasionally in America and elsewhere. Hajdu explores the outcry against EC Comics and their cartoon brethren in the late forties and in the fifties. A strange wedding of religious conservatives and 'a few' mental health professionals, the crusade against comics is a forgotten piece of American social history. With scholarship and perception, Hajdu delineates the ambivalent relationship America already had with the comic form in the early 20th century and goes on to chart the rise and fall of the madness that was the crusade against comic books. In this time, comics were considered to be major sources of moral and psychological corruption, leading the nation's youth to become like characters in Irv Shulman's 'Amboy Dukes' or worse! So loud were the mouths against comics in America, the crusade actually spread to Canada and even 'of all places' Great Britain. Lives and careers were ruined and a whole industry was scared right down to its toenails. Ever wonder why DC Comics stuff was so tame and juvenile in the 1950s? The answer is that they, like everyone else in the industry, were scared. A mental health professional came forth with the idea that comics were corrupting the nation's youth and an unholy alliance between reactionary clergy and psychiatry was born'never mind that the psychiatrist in question was rarely supported by his professional peers'. This idea of the corruption of the youth seems to have resonated repeatedly in 20th century America. Remember in the late 1980s that religious conservatives made allegations that some parents were initiating their children into sexually abusive Satanic cults? Never mind the whole idea of 'oppressed memories' is objectively questionable and never mind that some psychiatrists and psychologists strongly questioned the idea. Nevertheless, some mental health professionals joined with the religious conservatives and the burgeoning anti-cult movement to start a 'Satanic' panic. Earlier in the eighties, there had also been a scare about supposed Satanic messages hidden in the grooves of vinyl records. Most mental health professionals dismissed it, but a few quacks went along with the idea. Once again, we see the theme of the Seduction of the Innocent. I tell you, real Satanists'usually ironic and intelligent people for the most part' and real pedophiles must have been laughing their guts out. I wonder what the great Hawthorne would have thought had he lived to see the 'Crusade against Comics'or the Satanic parents scare or the 'hidden Satanic messages' nonsense. He would undoubedly have perceived that it had deep roots in America's Puritan history and no doubt would have got a few novels/romances out of such twaddle. David Hajdu's book is a great study of social madness. He charts the rise and fall of this mind-boggling social phenomenon and scrupulously notes every single life ruined by it all. This is a sad and long overdue book on this topic. The scholarship in this book is, to my eye, beyond reproach. Hajdu keeps solid track of the facts while never losing sight of the people acting out their fates on one side of the issue or the other. This book is of interest to all comic fans - a must, in fact. And the book should be of interest to sociologists and mental health professionals. Mental health professionals might indeed wonder why so many of their kind-no matter how nominal-went along with so many 'seduction of our youth' panics. One doesn't need to be a Laingian to suggest that the perceived integrative function of psychology/psychiatry has an inherently conservative nature that makes for a however superficially surprising natural alliance with religious conservatives. Notice how Hajdu details implicitly the anti-democratic features of the religious conservative movement - thou shalt not critic
Bookmarque on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Definitely a resource for the comic book aficionado. The casual reader (that's me) will be nearly drowned in minutia - artists, writers, publishers, publishing houses - all were unfamiliar except the large survivors (DC was the only one I recognized). After the first chapter trying to keep it all straight, I just let the details wash over me and tried to appreciate the occasional bit of information, insight or social repercussion. I did learn a bit about how each parental generation has its axe to grind and its media to blame on their kids' behavior. Never taking the responsibility directly, instead the searchlight is shined on comic books, rock and roll, music videos, video games and the internet. The arguments for the degeneration of each successive wave of youth has not changed at all, only the medium to blame.
theancientreader on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
First, I have to admit that I am not a comic book expert or collector. I do have a modest collection of Black Hawk (Blackhawk) comics, but only because they were my favorites when I was a kid. I really did not read this work due to any overwhelming interest in comics. I did read them growing up and well remember the hysteria surrounding them in the 1950s. I will admit though that I did read quite a number of them during that time period. My parents liked peace and quiet and found that giving me a comic would shut my never ending talk up for a bit. I did read this book though because I do have a great interest in censorship in any form, and I am interested in the particular era covered by this work.The author has certainly done some wonderful research with this offering. He gives us a very nice discussion of the history of the comic book in America, which I found quite interesting. I am sure that most comic enthusiasts will be aware of this information, but I was not, so I enjoyed it and learned. After his history he goes into the, as I said, ¿hysteria¿ which showed its ugly head every so often as to the effect this particular art form had upon the youth of our nation. Particular attention is made to the period of the late 1940s and the 1950s when the real trouble began.Post war America was in many ways, a rather scary place. For those of you not there at the time, you need to remember stories of The Red Scare, The Bomb, Eugene McCarthy, women asserting themselves in the work place, The Yellow Peril, population upheavals, transformation after a world wide depression¿and the list goes on. Among the ¿evils,¿ or so it was thought, was an increase in juvenile crime. The term ¿Juvenile Delinquent¿ became a part of our everyday vocabulary. Naturally, people needed something to blame these problems on. If a communist was not handy, or jazz music was not being played on the radio, then something else had to do. It this case, the comic book was chosen. I suppose since the beginning of time, young folk have rebelled a bit against the system or their elders, and since the beginning to time the elders have sworn up and down that the young are going to hell in a hand basket. When you think about it, this process is still going on. This is the natural way of thing; always has been, always will be. The author has given us a wonderful study of how a thought, a word, a picture, a story can be twisted and used by the powerful to meet their own needs and justify their own ends. In this case the PTA, politicians, preachers, the church, the Boy and Girl Scouts, schools, educators and the local village idiot all got in on the act. Priest, preachers, congressmen, psychiatrists, the news media, parents, George who worked at the local barber shop, all had an opinion. The author weaves a wonderful readable tale chronicling all of this. Now make no mistake; this is not what I would classify as an ¿easy read.¿ This is probably more of a scholarly work that a piece of popular history. It is easy to consume and teaches though, and holds the reader¿s interest. All in all, I found this to be a remarkable read. I learned new things and it certainly gave me much more food for thought. For history buffs, pop culture enthusiasts, comic collectors, and the generally curious, it would be hard to beat this one. Highly recommend this one.Don BlankenshipThe Ozarks
chyde on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Breezily written and entertaining. Some points slightly overdrawn and wraps up a little oddly, but solid throughout.
ElizabethChapman on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Whether you¿re familiar with the great crusade against comic books in the 1950s, or whether you¿ve never heard peep about it, The Ten Cent Plague gives a revealing and intriguing look at the cogs and wheels of social repression and incipient revolt.It¿s tempting to tut tut the mid-century panic over the ¿lurid violence¿ and ¿explicit content¿ of comic books; they seem positively quaint to our 21st Century eyes. But the forces that drove people to demonize an enemy within, and then destroy people¿s livelihoods, goad children into (comic) book burning, and accuse individuals of Un-American activities and the destruction of our country¿s morality, are just as relevant (and dangerous) today as they were sixty years ago.Author Hajdu¿s research is prodigious and his writing snappy, making Ten-Cent Plague both a thoughtful and enjoyable read. It¿s a true morality tale, and reminds us we should be alert to the double meaning of ¿morality¿ and the need to always think for ourselves.
TurtleBoy on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
How can one write a book about something as unassailably cool as the history of comic books and come away with a dud?David Hajdu has managed to do just that.He sets out with neither helm nor rudder: I believe Hajdu's goal is to describe the end of the golden era of comic bookery, brought about by pitchfork-wielding civic groups and well-intentioned government officials acting in the name of god-fearing families and their innocent and impressionable children everywhere...but Hajdu's lack of thesis and sometimes chaotic development make the story proceed in fits and starts. I'm never really sure of where he's going, and I'm not convinced that he's ever sure, either.I made it to page 113 before calling it quits.All in all, the book's thesis is promising, but it never delivers. Hajdu's writing is dull and trite, regardless of how lively his topic could be made. I can find better ways to spend my time, especially now that my summer reading list is stacking up.
drneutron on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
The Ten-Cent Plague is a history of the early days of comic books through the mid-1950s. But more than just a history, Hajdu also gives a history of the response of mainstream America to the comic books of the day, leading up Congressional hearings and the creation of an industry-wide censor organization.The book itself was pretty well done, with what seems to be pretty thorough research. But for me, the most interesting thing was how much the response to comic books seemed like the reaction to other non-traditional culture both before and since. For instance, the furor over role-playing games in the 80's was similar, if not as extreme. I'm still thinking about what this means for us as a society, but the book does make the reader think.
Girl_Detective on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
After reading, and being transported by, Michael Chabon¿s Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, I added David Hajdu¿s Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America, to my reading list. Hajdu¿s coverage of comic-book fear and censorship to the 1940 and 1950¿s is well-researched, filled with compelling personal accounts and anecdotes, and eminently readable. For readers who want to explore the history embedded in Chabon¿s Pulitzer-Prize winning book, for pop-culture history buffs, for those interested in youth culture and censorship, or just anyone who likes a well-written account of a little-known phenomenon, I highly recommend this book.
SomeGuyInVirginia on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
How can anyone talk about EC comics (peace be upon them) and not even mention the EC chapter in Warshow¿s Immediate Experience? It does not compute. In fact, you could remove the second half of the book and replace it with the IE chapter and it would be just as I have ever since I started collecting them as a kid, going for the gold right from the start. ECs and WWII-era DCs. Loved em, love em still. Haven¿t even looked at them in years.Ten-cent plague is best when it¿s describing the personalities of the people who started comics, and that they were always the work of immigrants and the disenfranchised. The comics were subversive, and the bouncers at the gate of high culture did everything they could to keep them out.There¿s the usual long bits about Wertham and his crusade to wipe out comics. But very little discussion on how comics changed America. How could they, since the champions of comics said they really had very little impact on culture and, if your kids were JDs, then it was your parenting skills and not Captain Marvel.
andreablythe on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This book covers the history, development, and controversies that surrounded the comic book industry from its inception in Sunday newspapers at the beginning of the century to its "golden age" in the late forties/early fifties through to it's near collapse at the end of the fifties. This was a fascinating book, one that I thought did a fabulous job of capturing the rapture of the artists, writers, and publishers and contrasting that with the fervor of those wishing to put at end to the threat of the ten-cent menace as they saw it. I was shocked to learn just how intense was the hatred of comic books. The hearing for banning comic books were right up there in interest with McCarthy's communist hunts, not to mention the numerous book burnings that occurred. Hajdu quoted directly from those involved on both sides of the controversies. That combined with his excellent descriptions of the people, events, and comics involved really made the time and the passions come to life for me.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
It kinda seems good im 50/50
Guest More than 1 year ago
I am seriously disappointed in this history of comic books as a part of popular culture. It is very boring and not worth reading.
Guest More than 1 year ago
The Golden Age of Comics is generally thought to have ended in the late 1940s. The Silver Age of Comics started with 1956 with the reintroduction of the Flash in Showcase #4 (DC Comics). So what happened in between? The answer lies in David Hajdu's Ten Cent Plague, a book that sheds light on an oft-forgotten piece of American history.Hajdu, using interviews of many prominent figures from the era, traces comics through the 1940s and early 1950s, when public outcry over the content of the books at the local newsstand led to censorship, mass burnings and even Senate hearings. Laws were enacted banning the sale of comics in cities across the United States and school children were encouraged to collect comics to throw on a bonfire at their local school. This was McCarthyism before McCarthy (though, interestingly enough, the final Senate hearing occured on the same day as the first hearing led by McCarthy). Through it all, Hajdu outlines the attitudes and struggles by many in the comics industry to keep their livelihoods afloat.This is a book that is a must for any comics fan. Covering the era between the Golden Age and Silver Age, Hajdu fills in the gaps in current comics history. His accounts of the burnings and outrage are chilling. That a country which was founded (in part) on freedom of speech and the press could allow book burnings is, to put it mildly, frightening. This books serves as both a history and a cautionary tale for anyone afraid of public hysteria gone too far.
TEST NOOKUSER More than 1 year ago
A great way to learn the roots of the comic book industry. A wonderful and entertaining read!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Fred Ermanovics More than 1 year ago
Don't forget Tipper Gore in the list - In the eyes of many comic fans, Wertham was Senator Joseph McCarthy, your high school guidance counselor, and your churchgoing parents all rolled into one. Remember the PMRC? Duh!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago