Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
I said it before, back when first discussing the character in the course of his abbreviated "mini-bio" in the Misfit Characters of the Marvel Universe section of this site... and I'll say it again:
"Why he never quite caught on with the Marvel readers of the day, I've never fully understood. Certainly, he wasn't any more inherently implausible than, say, a man bitten by a radioactive spider, or an Asgardian deity spouting flowery, faux Shakespearean dialogue.
And yet: even granting his near-continual starring status (in one guise or another) within the pages of Marvel's uberteam book, THE AVENGERS... he remains (at least, in the eyes of most of comics fandom) something of a career "second-stringer."
... to which, I'll add: "It should go without saying, however, that
'most of comics fandom,' -- pooling all available mental resources into a collective
'hive mind,' and working en masse -- would probably lose a fast, spirited
game of chess to Shari Lewis and Lambchop. Even if you took Shari Lewis
out of the equation." 
Before his debut within its Silver Age pages... TALES TO ASTONISH was one of the all-time lamest comic books to be found cheesing up the spinner racks of the day.
Given over entirely to the dispirited telling of relentlessly drab and moronic
"monster" tales -- with "shock endings" so pitiful, they'd be hard-pressed to
decently startle a particularly undemanding Girl Scout troop -- the title was
a joke: plain and simple. [See cover reproduction, below, for a
representative sample of same, if you don't believe me.]
There are -- ultimately -- some storytelling sins so
monstrous and unforgivable, not even Jack Kirby artwork can save them.
In any event: my having cruelly subjected you all to such an unmitigated atrocity is, I promise, in service ultimate to the most felicitous explanation possible as to the rationale behind the Jack Kirby/ Stan Lee creation of the Ant-Man feature in the first place.
You see: as originally conceived and executed... it was one of
those lame-brained "monster stories," itself.
"The Man In the Ant Hill" (TALES TO ASTONISH #27) [see cover reproduction,
below] was never meant to be anything more than yet another entry in the seemingly
endless parade of addle-pated "shock ending" sagas in which TTA so fumblingly
traded. Scientist Henry Pym discovers a bio-chemical formula, by
means of which he may dwindle himself to insectoid stature. And, oh, the
hijinks and hilarity which ensue -- !
However: a funny thing happened, when the sales figures for TTA #27 finally rolled
in, several months after said issue had hit the stands.
There was this huge, whopping spike on the sales chart.
Let no man born of woman ever, ever accuse Stan Lee of not being able to scent a dollar bill through several sheetings of battleship boilerplate. As soon as he could decently club a (doubtless) perplexed Jack Kirby into submission: the ANT-MAN series took over the lead spot within the pages of TTA. [See cover reproduction, below]
Now, granting that Our Diminutive Do-Gooder's super-powers of choice were not precisely the stuff of terrified underworld nightmares, overall ("Stop! One false move, and I'll make it infinitely easier for you to stomp my head like a grape -- !")... he persevered, nonetheless, by striking up an alliance with some of the bravest, most selfless comrades- in-crimefighting-arms a plucky, vertically-challenged hero could ever hope to have.
No, no, you idiots! Not The Justice League!
The ants!
The ANTS -- !!
Sometimes, I think you lot intentionally do
things like that, just to see me cry.
Henry Pym communicated with his "little allies" by means of a specially constructed "cybernetic helmet; the powers of which he scrupulously avoided utilizing in any way which might lead his multi- limbed muchachos into straits too perilous and awful to contemplate. Which -- for an ant -- has got to cover some serious situational "ground," you gotta figure.
(In all honesty, however: I kept waiting, as a kid, for the ants to one day rear back, en masse, at one of Pym's "let's-you-and-him-fight mental commands and just... y'know... stare at him, or something.
PYM: "Quickly my little friends! WE are the earth's last, best hope! Attack Galactus... NOW -- !!"
1ST ANT [derisive laughter]: "Shyeah! Riiiiiiiiiiight."
2ND ANT [making rude gesture]: "Hey! 'Doc!' I'm yo mama's 'last, best hope'... know what I mean...?"
3RD ANT [impatient]: "Oh, hell... let's just eat him, like we all discussed at the meeting, f'chrissakes."
4TH ANT [brightly]: "Ooooh! Ooooh! I brought the
salsa -- !!")
Eventually, the noble (but really nutty) scientist realized one of two things:
a.) ants do not, as a general rule, make for terribly effective "foot soldiers" against Mob torpedoes, would-be alien demi-tyrants and what-have-you; annnnnnnd --
b.) you've slept with one ant... you've pretty much slept with
all of 'em, really. [*rimshot*]
To this end, then: Hank Pym hooked up with a curvaceous young heiress
(and professional thrill-seeker) by the name of Janet Van Dyne; slipped
her a variant on his own super-shrinkum potion; and -- hey, presto! --
one winged, teensy-tiny sidekick, comin' right up!
[See cover reproduction, below]
The Wasp
brought immeasurably more to the series, however, than simply another spandexed
mouth to feed. (God... I hate it when a metaphor gets
all vicious and turns on you, like that.) Alongisde the stultifyingly
sober and earnest Pym, the vivacious Van Dyne -- by way of comparison
-- added a dash of much-needed humor< to the storytelling proceedings,
overall; always a nice "plus," that, when your personal "rogue's gallery"
of recurring nasties is highlighted by the likes of Egghead and
(*snicker*) The Porcupine. [Again: see cover
reproduction, above.]
She also, alas, provided Lee and Company with a convenient "dodge," by means of which they could continue to pawn off those imbecilic "shock monster tales" of theirs, in the back pages of TTA. Here's how that scam worked:
Each and every month, the Wasp would wing her way towards the nearest veteran's hospital or orphanage (on the grounds, presumably, that neither group had anywhere near enough anguish and/or suffering going on in their lives already) and regale her hapless audience -- did I say "hapless"? I meant happy. Obviously. -- with some particularly dire OUTER LIMITS reject Lee hadn't managed to fob off onto the readership beforehand; her relentlesly chipper introductions and "cappers" serving as a maladroit form of "framing" device for same.
"Somewhere Waits A WOBBOW!" Boy... bet you're
all just heartsick over having missed out on that li'l literary
masterwork, huh...?
PART TWO of our Ant-Man/Giant-Man/Wasp retrospective... on the following page!
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