When I stumbled across my first issue of “Superman’s Girlfriend Lois Lane” at a yard sale back in the ’80s, I had no idea I was about to fall down a rabbit hole of Silver Age insanity that would become my obsession for decades. Issue #10—Lois as a baby on the cover, Superman and Lana canoodling on the couch—was my gateway drug into what I now consider the most delightfully unhinged comic series DC ever produced.

Now I know what some of you are thinking. “Isn’t that just some dated romance comic where Lois chases Superman around for 137 issues?” Nope. It’s SO much more than that. This series, which ran from 1958 to 1974, was the comic book equivalent of a fever dream written by someone who’d consumed nothing but soap operas, sci-fi B-movies, and whatever hallucinogens were floating around DC’s offices during the Kennedy administration.

The Series That Defied Logic (and Sometimes Physics)

For starters, “Superman’s Girlfriend Lois Lane” was a legitimate commercial blockbuster. By 1962, it was the THIRD best-selling comic in America, trailing only Superman and Superboy. This wasn’t some niche title—it was mainstream pop culture, selling millions of copies to both girls and boys.

And what were these kids reading? Stories where Lois:

• Became a witch with magical powers
• Turned into a centaur
• Got transformed into a baby (who then tried to marry baby Superman)
• Was pursued romantically by Satan (I’m not kidding)
• Temporarily gained 100 pounds from a magical cake
• Switched brains with a gorilla
• Dated Batman to make Superman jealous

And that’s just scratching the surface of what editor Mort Weisinger’s team cooked up month after month. The writers of this series never met a transformation plot they didn’t like. Poor Lois was turned into practically every animal in the zoo, aged forwards and backwards, shrunk, enlarged, duplicated, and split into evil twins more times than I can count.

The Kurt Schaffenberger Magic

I’ve collected comics for 35 years now, and I still maintain that Kurt Schaffenberger—who drew most of the first 81 issues—is one of the most underappreciated artists in comic history. His Lois was THE definitive version: confident, beautiful, expressive, and always perfectly coiffed even when being thrown into outer space or menaced by aliens (which happened a lot).

Schaffenberger’s art had this wonderful clean line that could make even the most ridiculous scenarios—like Lois growing antlers or turning into a human porcupine—look somehow plausible. His facial expressions were where the real magic happened. Superman’s perpetual exasperation, Lois’s determined scheming, Perry White’s cigar-chomping frustration—he captured it all with remarkable economy of line.

Beyond the Marriage Plots

Yes, many stories revolved around Lois’s schemes to marry Superman, but the series was much richer than that single note. Lois was portrayed as a fearless reporter willing to risk her life for a story. She regularly went undercover, infiltrated criminal organizations, and traveled to dangerous locations—all without superpowers. She was career-driven in an era when many female characters weren’t allowed to be.

What fascinates me about this title is how it actually evolved with the times. As the ’60s progressed into the more socially conscious ’70s, the comic attempted to address serious issues. Issue #106’s “I Am Curious (Black)”—where Lois uses a machine to transform herself into a Black woman to understand racial discrimination—reads as incredibly problematic today, but represented an awkward attempt to engage with social issues that most superhero comics of the era wouldn’t touch.

My Personal Collection Obsession

I spent my 30s hunting down as many issues of this series as I could find, finally completing my collection five years ago when I found a decent copy of issue #69 on Ebay. (I paid more than I care to admit here. My wife still brings it up during budget discussions.)

My favorite issue remains #57, “The Amazing Superman Junior,” where Lois tries to indoctrinate and brainwash a baby Superman to fall madly in love with her when he is eventually restored to adulthood. It’s got everything: bizarre science, jealousy plots, and a tiny Supertot flying around shouting declarations of love while Lana Lang fumes. Pure Silver Age perfection.

Why This Series Still Matters

In our era of grim-and-gritty comics that take themselves very seriously, I find myself returning to these Lois Lane issues as a reminder of when comics were weird, surprising, wildly creative, and joyfully unrestrained by logic or continuity.

But beyond the camp value, this series gave us something remarkable—a woman lead character who carried her own title for 16 years in a male-dominated industry. Lois wasn’t just “Superman’s girlfriend”—she was a character who could sustain her own adventures, make her own decisions (however bonkers), and connect with readers without superpowers.

Anyone else have fond memories of this series? Or am I the only one with a soft spot for Lois’s most kooky adventures? Drop a comment below—I’d love to hear your thoughts on Superman’s Girlfriend… Lois Lane!