In the pantheon of comic book history, names like Superman, Batman, and Spider-Man dominate the conversation. When it comes to Black superheroes, Marvel’s Black Panther often takes center stage as the trailblazer. But two decades before T’Challa leapt onto the pages of Fantastic Four in 1966, a different character—and a groundbreaking creator—quietly made history. Meet Lion Man, the first Black superhero, brought to life in 1947 by Orrin Cromwell Evans, a visionary journalist-turned-publisher who dared to challenge the status quo. This is the story of a forgotten hero and the man behind him, whose ambition and courage reshaped the narrative of Black representation in comics.
The First Black Superhero
Lion Man: A Hero Born of Purpose
Lion Man wasn’t a king adorned with vibranium or a caped crusader soaring through the skies. He was a college-educated Black man with a mission—sent to Ghana to guard “Magic Mountain,” a site brimming with untapped potential and coveted by treacherous nations. His story unfolded in the pages of All-Negro Comics #1, a revolutionary publication launched in June 1947. Unlike the sidekicks or caricatures that Black characters were often reduced to in mainstream comics of the era, Lion Man was a protagonist: intelligent, brave, and unapologetically Black.
His creator, Orrin Cromwell Evans, envisioned Lion Man as more than just a character. He was a symbol of empowerment, a beacon for a community yearning to see themselves as heroes. In a single 15-cent issue, Lion Man shared the spotlight with other original characters like Ace Harlem, a sharp-witted private detective, and the whimsical Dew Dillies—each crafted to reflect the diversity and richness of Black life. This wasn’t escapism for its own sake; it was storytelling with a conscience.
A Milestone in Negro Journalism
The debut of All-Negro Comics wasn’t just a comic book—it was a declaration. In its opening editorial, Evans and his team wrote, “This publication is another milestone in the splendid history of Negro journalism. All-Negro Comics will not only give Negro artists an opportunity gainfully to use their talents, but it will glorify Negro historical achievements.” For Evans, the medium was a vehicle to uplift, educate, and inspire. At a time when segregation permeated every corner of American life, this comic dared to center Black voices in a way that was unprecedented.
The book was a triumph of collaboration, produced entirely by Black writers, artists, and editors. It shattered the mold of the comic industry, which had long been a playground for White creators and White heroes. But its boldness came at a cost—one that would silence its potential before it could fully roar.
The Man Behind the Mask: Orrin Cromwell Evans
Orrin Cromwell Evans wasn’t a stranger to breaking barriers. Born in 1902 in Pennsylvania, his early life was shaped by the complexities of race in America. His father, light-skinned enough to “pass” as White, provided the family with a degree of stability, while his darker-skinned mother played the role of maid in public to shield them from scrutiny. It was a delicate balancing act, but it gave young Orrin a vantage point on the absurdities of prejudice—a perspective that would fuel his career.
By age 17, Evans was already writing for the Philadelphia Tribune, the nation’s oldest Black newspaper, where his sharp prose and fearless spirit began to shine. In the early 1930s, he made history again, joining the Philadelphia Record as its only Black reporter. There, he became the first Black journalist at a mainstream White newspaper to cover general assignments—not just “Black stories.” His beat ranged from city hall to the front lines of social justice, where he fearlessly called out segregation in the armed forces and critiqued government policies during wartime. Colleagues dubbed him “the dean of Black reporters,” a title earned through grit and integrity.
A New Medium, A New Fight
When the Philadelphia Record folded in 1947, Evans didn’t retreat. Instead, he turned his gaze to comic books—a medium exploding in popularity but glaringly devoid of Black heroes. He saw an opportunity not just to entertain, but to reach Black youth with stories that reflected their worth. Partnering with a talented crew of Black creators, he founded All-Negro Comics, pouring his journalistic ethos into a new form. The result was a 48-page anthology that defied convention and radiated pride.
Yet, the world wasn’t ready for Evans’ vision. After the release of its inaugural issue, All-Negro Comics faced a backlash that was as swift as it was silent. Distributors mysteriously withdrew support, and vendors refused to stock the book. A second issue, already in the works, never saw the light of day. The dream of a sustained Black comic universe was snuffed out—not by lack of talent or vision, but by a society unwilling to embrace it.
Legacy Overlooked, Impact Undeniable
The abrupt end of All-Negro Comics left a void in the industry. For nearly two decades, Black characters in starring heroic roles vanished from comics, relegated to supporting parts or stereotypes. It wasn’t until 1966, with Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s introduction of Black Panther, that a Black superhero would again take center stage. But while T’Challa became a cultural icon, Lion Man and Orrin Evans slipped into obscurity—a footnote in a history that owes them far more.
Evans returned to newspapers after the comic’s demise, continuing his work until his death in 1971. He left behind a legacy that, though underrecognized, reverberates through every Black superhero that followed. From Luke Cage to Storm to Miles Morales, the seeds of their existence were planted in that single, defiant issue of All-Negro Comics.
A Call to Remember
Today, as comic book culture thrives and diversity becomes a rallying cry, it’s time to resurrect the names of Lion Man and Orrin Cromwell Evans. Evans didn’t just create a superhero—he built a platform for Black creators to tell their own stories, at a time when such audacity was revolutionary. His work was a protest, a celebration, and a promise: that Black heroism deserved to be seen.
In an era where representation matters more than ever, Evans’ story reminds us that the fight for visibility is not new. It’s a torch passed from one generation to the next, lit by pioneers like him. Lion Man may not grace movie screens or headline conventions, but his creator’s courage echoes in every panel where a Black hero stands tall. Orrin Cromwell Evans didn’t just make history—he carved a space for it to grow.
