Crawling Back: Amazing Spider-Man #123 Review (The Osborn Prelude, Interlude)
Conway caps off his "trilogy" of tragedy with an emphatic reflection on grief through men whose worlds have come undone
—by Nathan on March 4, 2025—
We find ourselves once again in this "limbo state" of interludes, talking tales which are connected to the ongoing Osborn saga I've occasionally detailed in other "Crawling Back" posts but don't necessarily feature an appearance by the ghoulish Green Goblin. Previously, I used these "interlude" posts to examine the first appearance of Norman Osborn's estranged business partner, Mendel Stromm, as well as the (somewhat inadvertent) death of Captain George Stacy at the tentacles of Doctor Octopus.
And death follows us this time around, too, and not just a singular demise.
In Amazing Spider-Man #121, Gerry Conway had the Green Goblin kidnap Gwen Stacy, who perished in the ensuing battle between Osborn and Peter Parker's alter egos. An enraged Spider-Man battled the Goblin in the following issue, halting the final killing blows, but in saving himself from one final attack, watched Osborn accidentally end his own life. Spidey slunk away, haunted by two deaths of people he knew, a hated enemy and a beloved partner, unaware he was being watched from the shadows…and not just by eager readers anticipating the next chapter in the unpacking of this tragic turn.
The identity of that shadowy someone will be revealed in a later post. For now, we'll shift to the side as quickly as Spidey ducked Osborn's oncoming Goblin glider, surveying the bitter aftermath of these events.
I can sum it up in two words: mourning…and money.
"...Just a Man Called Cage"
Writer: Gerry Conway
Pencilers: Gil Kane and John Romita
Inkers: John Romita and Tony Mortellaro
Colorist: Dave Hunt
Letterer: Artie Simek
Issue: Amazing Spider-Man #123
Issue Publication Date: August 1973
The year before this issue was published, creators Archie Goodwin and George Tuska had introduced the world to Luke Cage, real name "Carl Lucas," a guest of the state who'd received superpowers in an experiment gone awry and escaped from prison, fashioning himself a costume–including a fashionable headpiece and a chain-link belt–and calling himself a "Hero for Hire." No explanation needed there, right? You got the dough, Cage will make your worries go.
And J. Jonah Jameson, publisher of the Daily Bugle and #1 member in the "Run Spider-Man Out of Town" club, has that kind of dough and the hate necessary to believe Cage can bring Spidey in…dead or alive.
We find ourselves in a place of great grief as this issue opens, and interestingly, Conway doesn't go the obvious route: it's JJJ's pain we're introduced to first, the publisher watching his friend's body carted away. Norman Osborn is dead, and despite evidence suggesting the Green Goblin was involved (at least, given the police's estimation), Jameson has pinned it on one person.
The Human Torch.
Naw, I'm just kidding. It's Spider-Man. It's always Spider-Man.
Conway leverages the astoundingly tragic events of the last two issues to great extent, letting conflict bubble up from the grief carrying over from ASM #121 and #122. I often feel conflict in comics can come across as manufactured or convenient–it just so happens Peter Parker sees a van full of his deadly foes pass him by, or his powers conk out just when six of his greatest enemies decide to form a super-team. "Right place, right time" kinda stuff. Happens alla time. Rarely does it feel one form of internal conflict naturally leads to the external conflict or that the two are connected for reasons other than the writer wanted them to. Spidey was tripping over his own ego the first time he was defeated by a supervillain way back in 1963–what a convenient lesson in humility! Or how about the time he started wondering about whatever happened to the Green Goblin right before Osborn returned for the first time? To quote The Incredibles: "Coincidence? I think not!" At least not from a reader's perspective.
Which means I genuinely enjoyed the intentionality behind the tension Conway weaves into this issue. Think of this as an epilogue to a trilogy of tales dealing with the Gwen/Goblin portion of this ongoing Osborn saga. We are given three men–Peter Parker, J. Jonah Jameson, and Harry Osborn–who process their grief in different ways. For Jonah, it's hiring a hero and siccing him on that blasted web-headed menace. For Peter, it's feeling dissociated from reality, wondering what he's ever going to do with Gwen gone. For Harry, it's silent revulsion towards his roommate, seemingly over the death of his father…which is it, just not in the way readers may have assumed when this issue first dropped.
Grief propels these men. Jameson's pigheadedness becomes all the more bullish as he rants and raves, all logic out the window. The death of a man he considered a good friend leads him to the wrong conclusions and down the wrong avenues; he fails to attend Gwen's funeral because he's out hiring Cage; in basically the same breath, he calls Robbie Robertson a "friend" and chastises him. Where the "irate publisher" bit may have at times seemed a little corny under Stan Lee, Jameson's rage feels properly fueled here, his emotions clouding his judgement. His general anger is understandable, even if the specifics are woefully misplaced. He's an emotional revolver who's guaranteed to go off, and Conway knows where to point him
Peter suffers under the weight of his greatest loss since Uncle Ben (yes, the death of Captain Stacy was also tragic, but it doesn't feel quite as impactful), and a snippy tone he took in the last page of ASM #122 carries over here. His world has been ripped away from him, and despite his spider-like agility, he struggles with the emotional version of finding himself dangling upside down. Peter even notes he should be focused on a bigger picture plot development–just who removed the Green Goblin's costume?–but cannot bring himself to concentrate. It's Conway telling us he's not interested in just sowing the seeds for the next plot development; ASM #123 and other issues will deal with the emotional impact of Gwen's loss. There's no need to move on so quickly. Peter certainly won't be. If Jameson's a loaded gun guaranteed to fire, Peter's a a loaded gun which may or may not go off...the finger's on the trigger, Conway just needs to decide if he's gonna pull.
And in one, quiet segment, Harry too is given a brief examination of his own grieving process, a silent exchange of eyes, a cold, harsh glare. We want to, in some respect, lay some of the responsibility at Harry's feet–it was his drug addiction which, unknowingly to Harry, led to his father embracing the Goblin persona one "final" time. But we get no confrontation between the roommates, and though later issues will explore their fraying relationship in earnest, all we (clearly) see of Harry is a singular moment of painful rage. No words, no actions. Just baleful eyes. Conway, Kane, and Romita plant a little tension here, not allowing it to eclipse all the other happenings. This is a mere subplot for now, and the creators wisely choose to let it linger, to let the art speak for itself as it injects a slight tingle into the back of our brains. That spider-sense will be shrieking soon enough…just not now. Harry's the revolver that isn't loaded yet, but Conway is slowing putting in all six bullets for the worst game ever of Russian roulette.
Luke Cage plays the role of antagonist in this narrative, and given my recent readings of his solo adventures, I find Conway handles him fairly decently. Some of the dated slang works its way into Cage's vocabulary, but not to the extent other writers handle him (he doesn't call anyone "baby," and I don't believe a "Sweet Christmas!' escapes his lips once). I'm no expert linguist, but the language Cage uses here, with a few exceptions, feels cribbed from general slang of the era, not just specific to African American cultures. Maybe "brother" and "dig" feel a little specific (the second especially because Spidey turns the word back on Cage as a joke), and maybe a few double negatives are intentional, but words like "mister" feel less culturally inclined.
Cage's conflict with Spidey, though instigated by money, becomes uniquely personal across the issue. He takes offense when Spidey calls him a mercenary, an interesting lens through which to view Cage's occupation not necessarily offered by the Hero for Hire's own series. Conway allows their philosophical views to do battle while the men physically fight each other. The verbal debate feels as organic as the fisticuffs, each character espousing their views in order to influence the other, with their initial hard-headedness giving way to understanding. The skirmish is treated better than "Character A fights Character B for generic reasons," and their conflict doesn't just end with them realizing they've been duped by a clever supervillain. The duel is a platform for a grander debate on their ethical perspectives, and Conway allows the debate to thrive instead of feeling ham-fisted or chucked in as a reason for them to eventually quit fighting.
There is, subtly, an indication that this fight is also a chance for Peter to vent his rage over Gwen's death. I was reminded, somewhat, of the Howard Mackie story from the late 90s where Spidey fights the Hulk while believing MJ has died. That issue more overtly remarks on Peter's anger fueling his punches; Conway's approach is softer. Peter himself, though lost in grief, doesn't specifically comment that he's wailing on Cage because he's heartbroken. Some of the snarkiness I referenced before plays into his interactions with characters, such as the "Dig" joke with Cage or an earlier barb towards JJJ thrown in Robbie Robertson's direction. His comedic stylings have a slightly more serious touch, and Peter does later note that the Spidey/Cage match (Ha! "Cage match"!) brings him to a place where he can think more clearly.
If any fault can be found here it's in how Conway compares and contrasts the two heroes, more so the "compare" aspect. The contrasts are played out in how each hero views the other, but a moment which could allow for some comparison and reference to parallels between the two men is glossed over in favor of an epilogue. There are a few indications readers could grasp and use to make their own inferences, which I generally prefer to blatant exposition, but the parallels could be a tad more articulated or at least casually referenced.
So the ending feels a tad truncated, with possibly cool character moments removed from our reading. But the rest of the issue plays with themes of handling loss, serving as a strong concluding chapter for this overarching story. With the two previous issues, Conway changed the face of Spider-Man comics forever. With ASM #123, Conway began the process of developing a new status quo. No Gwen and no Goblin. When I first began reviewing comics in 2020, I had a singular goal in mind: review the Clone Saga. I'm a little ways off from that controversial chronicle, but with these three issues, we see the groundwork for what was to come several years later. This issue brings us into a new world for Spider-Man…I almost want to say a "new normal," but there's really nothing normal about the stories that were yet to come.