In the Spring of 1964, Marvel was right in the middle of its super-hero renaissance: Fantastic Four and Spider-Man were enjoying solid popularity, Avengers and X-Men were finding their stride to various degrees of success, and characters like Thor and Iron Man were solidifying a presence in their respective anthology series. It was a mix of conventional super-heroes and more grounded, complex, human characters that were becoming something of a specialty for Marvel. This was the landscape in which Daredevil debuted, leaning hard into that latter side of the Marvel identity.
Daredevil #1:
"The Origin of Daredevil"
- Writers: Stan Lee
- Artists: Bill Everett, Jack Kirby, Sol Brodsky & Steve Ditko
- Editor: Stan Lee
- Publication Date: February 4, 1964
- Cover Date: April 1964
Daredevil #1 was initially intended for publication several months earlier, but was delayed due to artist Bill Everett failing to meet his deadline. By all accounts, Everett was struggling with an overwhelming workload not limited to his work at Marvel, while also dealing with an alcohol problem; he was also a Golden Age creator trying to keep up with the changing landscape of the comics industry. The Avengers famously became an improvised replacement for Daredevil, and eventually a Marvel staple in its own right, which bought more time for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to come together.
According to some sources, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko were brought in to help with the inking, which Everett was struggling to finish. Jack Kirby is also known to have contributed some art (including apparently the original design of the Daredevil character), though the specifics of who did what are unclear.
Current audiences know Daredevil as "the blind super-hero" most of all, so it's interesting that the disability isn't explicitly pointed out in the cover of Daredevil #1. In fact, it's not established until about a third of the way through the book, with the cover only hinting that there's something unusual about him (but Stan Lee would call every character the most exceptional or unique hero/villain ever created, so that doesn't mean much).
There's a degree of restraint in the introduction of the character that's honestly impressive, and the entire issue continues that exceptional style of trusting the reader. Just to be sure, however, Marvel tagged a picture of Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four in the corner to entice new readers, even though neither the wall-crawler nor Marvel's first family actually appear in the book itself.
The book is tonally distinct from most other Marvel books, leaning both visually and narratively in the direction of a grungy noir atmosphere. It has an inherent feel of a detective story that gels nicely with the super-hero layer, quite possibly in large part due to how toned-down Daredevil himself was from the start -- even with his supernatural senses, he never feels overpowered, and his limitations are graspable and consistent, at least on a 1960s' scale.
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| Art by Bill Everett, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko. © Marvel Comics. |
The story begins with a flash-forward scene where Daredevil crashes a poker game between some crooks. We establish that he is looking for someone called the Fixer, but in a rare display of artistic patience for the time, we don't find out who that is or why Daredevil wants him until much later.
That brief introductory scene cuts to a backstory sequence that occupies the majority of the first half of the book. We're introduced to the life story of Matthew Murdock, whose father, a washed-up boxer, urges him to spend all of his free time studying, at the expense of social and athletic pursuits. Matt obliges, but laments the opportunities he's losing, and finds other kids are making fun of him for his dedication to his studies. He finds relief to his frustration from physical exercise, which he engages with fervently.
Matt's backstory contains a shocking degree of complexity compared to what would have been expected at the time. Before he even becomes disabled, there's multiple layers of internal conflict, which not only make the character inherently interesting, but also efficiently communicate elements of his personality and values without spelling them out in captions or dialogue. The sequence establishes him as smart, but also socially and athletically inclined; his decision to respect his father's wishes despite an obvious anguish about his isolation indicates immense loyalty; he also doesn't complain or lash out at his father, which he could have done and still remained relatable (and which I believe he does in later tellings), but here he comes across as resilient and humble, both qualities associated with Daredevil to this day.
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| Art by Bill Everett, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko. © Marvel Comics. |
In the scene where Matt saves a blind man from being run over by a truck, we also see him as unquestionably altruistic, courageous and noble. His father feels increasing responsiblity to earn money to send Matt to college, particularly after his accident; we feel the desperation of this out-of-work fighter, who was introduced to us as a man with no other skills besides fighting. Matt's father is a powerful narrative component, because of the sheer volume of pathos in how he promised Matt's late mother that he wouldn't let their son grow up uneducated like him.
There's also something particularly moving about their relationship, which is described quite minimally in actual words. There's a bond of mutual loyalty and empathy between them, with Matt prioritizing his father's wishes for his education above all else, and the father doing everything he can to be able to afford that education. There's more subtext in just this one issue than there is in many other comic book series up until this point in time, and it's a big part of why Daredevil #1 lands as well as it does.
Matt's father winds up signing a contract with a manager called the Fixer. We've established that Matt's father wanted to avoid working with him as far as possible, which communicates that he's crooked even before we see his obviously villainous appearance. His career picks up, but it's soon revealed that his fights have been fixed (hence the villain's name), and he's set to take a fall soon after. It's a basic plot, but it works perfectly fine here -- it's a gritty and grounded story, in line with the tone of the book.
With Matt in the audience (along with his college roommate Foggy Nelson), Matt's father refuses to throw the match, and ends up winning against the Fixer's plans. He ends up getting shot in a dark alley by the Fixer's underling Slade, and is found later by law enforcement. Matt swears to bring his murderers to justice, but recalls promising him to not use violence. To resolve the conflict, he develops the persona of Daredevil, to keep Matthew Murdock free of guilt.
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| Art by Bill Everett, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko. © Marvel Comics. |
The story of Daredevil is already heavier and more mature than the average contemporary comic book even before the introduction of the actual character. But it's hard to over-state the thematic charge of Matt dressing up as a literal devil to do the things he promised he wouldn't do; he's taking on a separate personality as a scapegoat for the sins he knows he's going to commit. This in itself is a great thematic beat, but the fact that it's not belabored in the dialogue is what makes it powerful: Daredevil #1 says a lot of things without saying them, which makes it stand out from almost any other comic book in 1964.
We don't really know how Daredevil tracks down the Fixer's goons, or what his suspicion of the crooked manager is based on exactly, but in this case the plot convenience doesn't really bother me -- we can assume that Matt, with his super-sensitive hearing, would have heard the Fixer say something suspicious or incriminating during the fateful match, even though this isn't explicitly indicated. It's not much of a problem because the plot is relatively simple, and it's carried by the thematic strength of Matt's story anyway, so these kinds of details become a formality, particularly because there's no narrative conflict, only some missing information.
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| Art by Bill Everett, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko. © Marvel Comics. |
The last stretch of the story is dominated by an action scene, predominantly against the Fixer and Slade who are trying to escape. The action itself is good, with the interesting distinction from traditional work of Kirby or some other contemporaries that it feels meticulous, even slow, in some ways; it feels less cartoony, which again aligns with the grounded style, and each motion and action has a lot of weight to it. This was probably an advantage in Bill Everett working on this issue. The way these scenes utilize depth is also noteworthy, contributing to the distinct visual identity of the fights.
What's exceptional in the action, though, is the way it demonstrates Daredevil's powers. This is where the Silver Age inner monologue over-explaining every action actually works in the story's favor: rather than our hero being vaguely strong and fast, Matt's thought bubbles explain the exact logistics of how he detects things as they're happening, how he reasons and deducts what's going on based on what he hears and feels. It's not just an amorphous sixth sense, it's a practical display of his competence, which makes him cool and likable. Even better, he's not infallible -- he makes mistakes and takes hits, which keeps his power level in check and reminds the reader that his disability isn't just a cosmetic gimmick, bur rather something that does affect his abilities.
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| Art by Bill Everett, Sol Brodsky and Steve Ditko. © Marvel Comics. |
The story also dodges the pitfall of making the character feel like he exists in a vacuum by introducing Foggy and Karen Page as supporting cast; this was a stumble that characters like Iron Man struggled with for a while, before Stan Lee and company figured out Tony Stark should probably have a life outside his iron suit. Foggy and Karen don't get a lot of time on the panels in this issue, and some of Karen's dialogue regarding Matt is a little weird and ableist, but establishing them as characters that exist is all they needed to be for this first issue, which had to be focused on Matt anyway.
Daredevil #1 introduces a noticeably darker, grittier, and in some ways smaller super-hero to Marvel's catalogue, and it does it surprisingly well. The lack of super-villains, the personal and grounded story, and a plot that isn't trying too hard sell it as a serious, thoughtful book, with potential to be something really special. This first issue is stronger than most debut stories from the era, and a lot of it has to do with using artistic restraint and trusting the reader rather than swinging as hard as possible. Not only would that make this debut stand out in a positive way, but it would also define the character's identity for decades to come.
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