Comics Price Guide Blog

Updated for current market trends (January 2026).

Saturday morning cartoons were as much a part of my childhood as playing in the streets with the neighborhood kids or getting a hug from my mom. Sitting cross-legged in front of a bulky console TV, watching Scooby-Doo or Speed Racer, still fills me with nostalgia—a reminder of a time when everything felt simpler and wonderfully predictable. It was as reliable as fighting with my brother or pulling a small plastic toy from a box of Super Sugar Crisps.

For kids of that era, Saturday morning followed a familiar rhythm: a bowl of cereal, a few precious hours of cartoons, and then the inevitable push out the door to play outside. But those wonderful and wacky shows—packed with sea monsters, flying anvils, and perfectly predictable plots—were more than entertainment. They were the centerpiece of a carefully constructed marketing machine. Take a moment and think about just how many ways kids were marketed to in the 1970s.

A nickel dropped into a gumball machine might produce a Scooby-Doo ring or pencil topper. Department stores carried Scooby-Doo View-Master reels, lunchboxes, and even LP records. Card games like Old Maid and War featured familiar cartoon faces. But one of the most enduring pieces of that marketing plan sat on the spinner rack of nearly every drugstore: the comic book. Virtually every major cartoon from the mid-1960s through the early 1980s had a comic book counterpart.

These licensing deals shifted between comic publishers, sometimes resulting in the same property appearing from two different companies at the same time. Decades later, those disposable-feeling cartoon comics have become surprisingly valuable. Because kids loved these characters, the comics were read, folded, traded, and loved to death—making high-grade copies exceptionally scarce today. Add nostalgia, limited survival rates, and occasional short print runs, and you get a powerful collecting category.

So, what actually drives value?

Studying the most expensive Saturday morning cartoon–related comic books of the 1970s reveals a few clear patterns. While nostalgia plays a role across the board, the books that rise to the top tend to fall into just a handful of repeatable categories. These patterns explain why certain cartoon comics became Bronze Age standouts—while others, just as beloved, never quite made the jump.

Dog-Led Shows Were 1970s Gold

Dog-centric cartoons consistently outperform expectations because they tap directly into childhood emotion. Characters like Scooby-Doo, Underdog, and Hong Kong Phooey weren’t just mascots—they were heroes, companions, and sources of comfort. Kids didn’t just watch them; they bonded with them.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! is the undisputed apex predator of the Bronze Age cartoon comics market. No other property comes close. Scooby wasn’t simply popular—he became a generational constant, endlessly reintroduced through reruns, spinoffs, and reinvention. That emotional connection meant the comics were read relentlessly, leaving very few high-grade survivors today.

Even secondary dog characters benefited from this dynamic. Muttley, from Wacky Races and Dastardly & Muttley in Their Flying Machines, often played the role of reluctant hero, subtly aligning himself with the audience. Hanna-Barbera recognized the power of this formula and copied it repeatedly, creating Scooby-style mystery shows like Goober and the Ghost Chasers and The Funky Phantom.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You #1 (1970 Gold Key) – $4500 in 9.4 raw
Underdog #1 (1970 Charlton) – $500 in 9.4 raw
Hong Kong Phooey #1 (1975 Charlton) – $200 in 9.4 raw
Scooby-Doo #1 (1975 Charlton) – $175 in 9.4 raw
Underdog #1 (1975 Gold Key) – $120 in 9.4 raw
Scooby-Doo #1 (1977 Marvel) – $100 in 9.4 raw
Fun-In #1 (1970 Gold Key) – $100 in 9.4 raw
Wacky Races #1 (1969 Gold Key) – $90 in 9.4 raw

 

High-Episode Shows (80+ Episodes)

In an era when many cartoons lasted only 13–16 episodes, a handful of shows became true content juggernauts. These long-running series had years—not weeks—to embed themselves into childhood routines, giving them a massive visibility advantage.

The Flintstones are the ultimate example. Beginning in 1960 and running for 166 episodes, the series didn’t just survive into the Bronze Age—it blanketed it. Spinoffs like The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show, The Flintstone Comedy Hour, Fred Flintstone and Friends, and The New Fred and Barney Show ensured the characters never left Saturday mornings. That same saturation carried over to the spinner rack, where Flintstones comics appeared across multiple publishers and formats throughout the 1970s.

Other long-running shows followed a similar pattern: more episodes meant more exposure, stronger brand recognition, and a higher chance that kids encountered—and consumed—the comics repeatedly.

Pink Panther #1 (1971 Gold Key) – $300 in 9.4 raw
Battle of the Planets #1 (1979 Gold Key) – $135 in 9.4 raw
Fat Albert #1 (1974 Gold Key) – $100 in 9.4 raw
Super Friends #1 (1976 DC) – $100 in 9.4 raw
Flintstones #1 (1970 Charlton) – $90 in 9.4 raw

 

Short-Lived Cartoons with Long-Term Screen Support

Some properties defy both episode count and mascot logic because they never truly disappear. Instead of relying on longevity in the 1970s, these franchises stay relevant through constant reintroduction to new audiences.

Sabrina the Teenage Witch is a perfect example. While her comic presence during the Bronze Age was relatively brief, her television footprint exploded decades later. From Sabrina the Teenage Witch (1996–2003) to Sabrina: Secrets of a Teenage Witch (2013) and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018–2020), the character has been continually refreshed. That sustained visibility retroactively fuels demand for her early comics.

In these cases, relevance replaces nostalgia. Collectors aren’t just buying childhood memories—they’re buying characters that still feel culturally alive.

Sabrina the Teenage Witch #1 (1971 Archie) – $400 in 9.4 raw
She’s Josie #45 (1969 Archie) – $245 in 9.4 raw
The Addams Family #1 (1974 Gold Key) – $160 in 9.4 raw
The Jetsons #1 (1970 Charlton) – $90 in 9.4 raw

 

Psychedelic & Experimental Saturday Morning Television

Some Saturday morning shows don’t fit neatly into any collecting model because they were never normal to begin with. A small group of late-1960s and early-1970s programs embraced surreal visuals, experimental storytelling, and outright strangeness—and their comics behave differently as a result.

Productions by Sid and Marty Krofft sit at the center of this category, occupying their own strange corner of pop culture. Krofft shows feel less like traditional cartoons and more like fever dreams: giant foam costumes, psychedelic sets, and fantasy logic that barely obeyed narrative rules. These weren’t just children’s shows—they were experiences. Let’s play a game: hallucination or actual Saturday-morning television? A boy with a talking golden flute named Freddy runs toward a living, psychedelic ship owned by a kooky witch named Witchiepoo, only to be rescued by a foam-filled, giant-headed mayor called H.R. Pufnstuf. Absurd as it sounds, every part of that sentence is real.

While most of the best examples came from the Kroffts, this sensibility wasn’t exclusive to them. The Banana Splits—produced by Hanna-Barbera rather than the Kroffts—shared the same psychedelic DNA. Live-action hosts in animal costumes, music segments, absurd skits, and a loosely structured format placed it firmly in the same experimental lane, even if it came from a more traditional animation studio.

As adults, many collectors return to these shows with a mix of fascination and disbelief, trying to reconcile what they remember with what they’re seeing. That strangeness creates a different kind of demand. These comics aren’t prized because kids read them endlessly; they’re valued because they’re cultural oddities that survived at all. Short runs, unconventional visuals, and lingering “what was I watching?” curiosity attract cult followings rather than mainstream nostalgia buyers.

That combination—short runs, unconventional visuals, and lingering “what was I watching?” curiosity—keeps Krofft-related comics firmly in a category of their own.

H.R. Pufnstuf #1 (1970 Gold Key) – $104 in 9.4 raw
The Banana Splits #1 (1969 Gold Key) – $100 in 9.4 raw

 

Closing

Taken together, the most valuable Saturday morning cartoon comics of the Bronze Age tell a clear story. Value wasn’t driven by a single factor, but by a small set of forces working in combination. Dog-led characters created deep emotional bonds that led to heavy reading and low survival rates. Long-running shows dominated through sheer cultural saturation. Some short-lived properties stayed relevant by never truly leaving television. And a handful of psychedelic outliers carved out cult followings by being unforgettable—and unrepeatable.

What unites these books is not just nostalgia, but scarcity shaped by how children actually interacted with them. These comics were never meant to be preserved. They were meant to be read on the floor, used as coasters, have the owner’s name written on them, and forgotten. That’s exactly why the survivors matter.

In the Bronze Age, Saturday morning cartoons weren’t just entertainment—they were a pipeline. Television created the characters, marketing made them unavoidable, and comic books captured them in a tangible form. Today, those same comics stand as some of the clearest time capsules of childhood in the 1970s—fragile, colorful, and endearing.

by Ron Cloer
Writing on Bronze Age comics, cultural history, and market significance

For a year-by-year list of the most expensive Bronze Age comic books and Bronze Age Creator Spotlights, see my archive page. Bronze Age Comic Book Archive