Fantastic Four #48(cover March 1966, on newsstands on December 9, 1965, 12¢) — “The Coming of Galactus!” », Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, inked by Joe Sinnott, Marvel Comics. The number entered two major characters at once: the Devourer of Worlds and his herald, the Silver Surfer. His presentation continues with #49 and #50, which together form the Galactus Trilogy.
There are first appearances that fit into one panel and others that take their time. This belongs to the second category: the character is not dropped all at once, it is deployed over three consecutive numbers, each adding a piece to the device.
This particular construction has a direct consequence for those who buy: the question “what number do you need?” » does not have a single correct answer, and the price varies greatly depending on which one you choose.
A trilogy, three functions
The three issues followed one month apart, and the publication dates recorded in the catalog confirm this:December 9, 1965 for #48, January 11, 1966 for #49, February 10, 1966 for #50. All 12¢, all by Lee and Kirby.
Le #48 opens. It announces a threat, shows a silver herald on a hoverboard and gives a glimpse of what is coming. It is the number of arrival, not yet that of confrontation. Everything is a promise, and it is precisely this restraint which gives the following number its see-saw effect.
Le #49 places the character in the foreground, cover included. This is where the silhouette becomes the figure everyone knows, and it is this issue that collectors cite as the first fully developed appearance.
Le #50 concludes and introduces in passing the object which resolves the confrontation. It is also the one where the herald makes a decision that would earn him his own series.
A manufacturing detail deserves to be known: #48 does not devote its entire pages to this plot. He first completes a previous story before switching. The introduction to the character therefore only occupies a portion of the issue — which has never stopped this issue from being the most sought after of the three.
Two characters for the price of one
The particularity of this issue is that it simultaneously gives rise to two major figures, with very different trajectories.
The first is an entity on a cosmic scale, whose appetite destroys inhabited worlds. The second is his messenger, a silver creature mounted on a board, whose melancholy will soon become a character in its own right, with its own series.
For the market, this double birth has a measurable effect. Two communities of collectors converge on the same copy, for reasons unrelated to each other: lovers of cosmic stories on one side, those who follow the herald on the other. Neither can obtain their first appearance without purchasing the other's.
This configuration is rare and is structurally favorable to the seller. It explains a good part of the permanent tension on this issue, regardless of any current events.
What Kirby Invented Visually
The graphic design of the character matters as much as the storyline in its posterity, and it is based on a counter-intuitive choice.
A devourer of planets could have been drawn like a monster: mouth, tentacles, deformity. Kirby does the opposite. It offers a humanoid silhouette, straight, helmeted, in a costume with strict geometric lines. Nothing organic, nothing threatening in the usual sense.
The effect produced is more disturbing than a monster would have been. The figure evokes an authority, almost an administrative function — someone who accomplishes a task. This is exactly what the story is about.
The scale does the rest. The character is shown overhanging, dominating buildings, in compositions where the heroes only occupy the bottom of the box. Kirby uses this visual grammar here systematically, and it has since been copied by generations of cartoonists.
An adversary who is not a bad guy
The point that distinguishes this character from most of his contemporaries is his moral position, or rather his lack of a moral position.
He doesn't hate anyone. He covets neither power nor territory. It feeds itself, and what it consumes happens to be inhabited. The story presents him less as a criminal than as a phenomenon — a famine, an earthquake, something that cannot be negotiated and that cannot be punished.
This idea was new in 1966 superhero comics, where the opponent was generally driven by an identifiable hostile intent. By moving the conflict to a register where victory cannot come through combat, the authors opened a narrative space that their publisher exploited for decades.
The collector finds a concrete argument there: longevity. A character designed as a force rather than as an individual can be reused indefinitely without wearing out, which maintains the demand for its founding numbers.
The manufacturing mechanics behind these numbers
These three episodes come from a particular working method, which partly explains their density.
At this publisher, at this period, the designer did not receive a scenario cut out panel by panel. He worked from a framework, often summary, and constructed the visual sequence himself: number of pages, cutting, staging. The dialogues were then written, on already drawn boards.
This operation gives the designer considerable latitude over the narration, and we see the result here. The full pages, the overwhelming compositions, the rhythm which alternates between intimate scenes and shots on a planetary scale: these choices relate to graphic construction, not an indication of the scenario.
To this must be added a production rate that is hard to imagine today. The designer then simultaneously produced several monthly series, inventing a considerable number of characters and machines along the way. The trilogy is not a separate project: it was produced in this flow.
For the collector, this information has concrete value. She explains why the issues of this period concentrate so many lasting creations, and therefore why so many of them became key — it was not an editorial policy, it was a work rhythm.
Check that a copy is complete
Before making a purchase on a comic of this age, a check should be carried out systematically: that of the integrity of the issue.
Comics from the 1960s featured advertising pages with cut-out coupons, and many readers used them. A cut page, even an advertising one, relegates the copy to a completely different price segment — and such a lack is never seen on a cover photo. This is one of the rare checks that a buyer cannot do alone, and one of the most decisive.
So ask the seller for explicit confirmation that the issue is complete, advertising pages included, and that no coupon has been removed. Also check that the cover is holding on to its block of pages: on these titles, the staples are sixty years old, and a cover that is only held by one staple will come off sooner or later.
British copies
Here's a point of identification that many buyers discover too late. Each of the three issues of the trilogy exists in two distinct versions in the catalogue: the American edition and an edition intended for the United Kingdom.
The difference is shown at the price printed on the cover. The American wears 12¢. The British displays a price in pence:9d on the first episode, 10d on the next two.
Everything else is the same — same cover, same story, same date. Only the price sticker changes. A buyer in a hurry, or a poor quality photo, and confusion ensues.
These copies are not counterfeits: they are official prints, produced for another market. But the American market, which is the benchmark in this segment, has historically valued them below the units priced in cents. So always check the price sticker in the photo before concluding.
State of Marvel 1966
Marvel comics from this period have characteristic weaknesses that you need to know how to spot.
The most common concerns cover edges, which often have tiny gaps due to the cutting process of the time. This defect is so widespread on these titles that it is almost expected; it does not weigh less on the bill.
Le paper, Next. Sixty years of acidification leaves browned edges and a block of pages that loses its flexibility. A welcoming cover does not assume anything about the interior.
Le back, Finally. The covers of this trilogy have large colored areas which whiten with the slightest friction of the fold. It's the first place an appraiser looks, and it's also the place a listing photo shows the worst.
Where to enter the trilogy
The choice depends less on the budget and more on what you are looking to own, and it is worth formulating it before looking.
If you want anteriority, it's #48, without discussion: it's the issue where the two characters appear for the first time, and it's the most disputed of the three.
If you want the picture— the figure as we know it, on the cover, in full possession of its means — #49 fulfills this role better, and it remains more accessible.
If you want the story, take all three. Read consecutively, they form an autonomous whole which stands together without any prior knowledge of the series, which is not so common in this period.
A fourth option deserves to be pointed out to those with limited budgets: period reprints and collections allow the cycle to be read for a pittance. They have no collector's value, but they avoid handling an expensive copy each time they reread — a more serious argument than it seems on comics whose condition is everything.
To place these three episodes in the character's career, see ourGalactus key numbersand thecharacter story.
Common questions about this number
Fantastic Four #48, cover dated March 1966 and on sale December 9, 1965, priced 12 cents. The story is called “The Coming of Galactus!” » and it is signed Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, with Joe Sinnott inking. The same issue also introduces the Silver Surfer.
#48 if precedence counts: this is the number where the two characters begin, and the most sought after of the three. #49 if you prefer the fully developed figure, on the cover, in an issue that remains more accessible. Both hold their own, and the price differs markedly.
The set formed by Fantastic Four #48, #49 and #50, published one month apart: December 9, 1965, January 11, 1966 and February 10, 1966, all at 12 cents. The first announces the threat, the second places the character in the foreground, the third concludes the confrontation and introduces the object which resolves it.
At the price printed on the cover. The American edition carries 12 cents; the British edition shows an amount in pence — 9d on the first episode, 10d on the other two. Everything else is strictly identical. These are official prints, not counterfeits, but the American market historically values them below cent copies.
Three as a priority. The cover edges, which often have tiny gaps due to the cutting process of the time. Paper, whose acidification browns the edges and stiffens the block of pages. And the back fold, which whitens at the slightest friction on the large colored areas of these covers.
Because two distinct audiences converge on the same copy: lovers of cosmic stories and those who follow the Silver Surfer. Neither can get their first appearance without purchasing the other's. This double demand maintains a permanent tension, without depending on the character's current events.
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