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Come meet our friend, Alfred Walker. Alfred is a looooong time Supe fan,

 and has some interesting things to share from...

Alfred Walker's Basement


THE IMAGINARY STORIES OF SUPERMAN

A Full-Length Remembrance! 

Part One: In the Beginning, There Was Krypton 

"This is an Imaginary Story. Aren't they all?" 

So wrote Alan Moore to kick off "Whatever Happened to The Man of Tomorrow?", an amazing tale that marked no less than the end of Superman's Silver Age as well as the final adventure of  the Man of - but wait! We've got a decade or so of Imaginary Stories to discuss first. 

For the uninitiated and/or just plain foggy of mind, Imaginary Stories (IS's) were a staple of the Superman family of comic books throughout the 1960s. And to those who might ask, as Alan Moore suggests, if "Imaginary" is not a bit of a redundant label for any story in which Superman appears: not if you're editor Mort Weisinger and his stable of writers, locking yourselves into an ever-expanding but nonetheless unbending continuity. The "Imaginary" moniker was a way for a writer to explore a tantalizing, unlikely, or simply silly story concept that could not play out in the "real" life of a hero who'd irrevocably lost his home planet, was implicitly sworn to celibacy, and never made a friend or an enemy who wouldn't love to soar spandexed through the air, same as him. 

Most fans from back in the day have a favorite IS, while a vocal minority professes its dislike of the overall concept. But no matter, the IS's were undeniably a key component of the story of Superman and his associates throughout the 1960s and beyond. Imagine that era without them, and you lose a considerable amount of color and a whole lot of fun. 

Comprehensive lists and analysis of IS’s are elusive (see Resources below), but some Supe scholars cite "Superman's Other Life", comprising all of Superman #132 in 1959, as the genesis of the genre. Interestingly, this story does not strictly meet the IS specs, which included at least two (but more likely four or five) disclaimers that the depicted events “may or may not ever happen". Instead, writer Edmund Hamilton frames a "what if" scenario - Krypton avoiding destruction and our hero’s subsequent life thereon - within a real-time session on a scenario-spinning super computer in the Fortress of Solitude. The Univac predicts that Kal-el would have enjoyed a younger brother, Zal, before losing all of his family in an accident as a young adult. As Supe, Batman, and Robin (don't ask) watch the monitor, they see Kal’s mentor, a space control officer, become the accidental super-hero Futuro. Fate is not to be denied, even in computer projections, and a visiting Earthling named Lois Lane sweeps Futuro off his feet. Before he and Lois leave for married life on Earth, Futuro transfers his powers to Kal, whose costume for his role as Superman on Krypton is amazingly close to the one we all know and love. It's a barn-burner of a story, one of the first full-length "novels" of the Superman family of titles, and an impressive launching pad for a creative concept that produced a sizeable catalog of tales that were variously great, fluffy, and paint by numbers.

The first official Imaginary Story featuring Superman would appear to have been "Mr. and Mrs. Clark (Superman) Kent" as told in Lois Lane #19 in 1960. Even though the title editor felt you needed a little reminder of Clark Kent's alter ego, I bet you can still guess the identity of Mrs. Clark Kent. Yes, it's that famous triangle of Lois, Clark, and Supe gone marital, but with very little bliss. Poor Lois faithfully keeps her spouse's hero status a secret, while fielding a string of slights and putdowns from friends and neighbors regarding husband Clark's milquetoast tendencies. The story’s opening narrative conveys a near giddiness in announcing that what we are about to read is, indeed, "only the first of many such tales which could very well happen in the future... but perhaps never will!" One can almost hear editor Weisinger, his responsibility being ten or more Supe-related stories a month, thinking "Goldmine!"  

Let me now say that as a young reader, I loved almost all of these stories. I found them enjoyable, creative, and - in their ability to break down the thematic structure of Superman's life (if only for eight pages) - very exciting. Part Two of this article spotlights a handful of favorites, plus one Imaginary Story too famous to ignore. 

Resources: I've been on and off the web for a few years looking for a full listing of Imaginary Stories, and finally found this as I was finishing this article. It "may or may not" be complete, but there are certainly more stories here than I can remember, plus a couple of intriguing entries from Superman’s very early years. Scroll down the page to Imaginary Stories at http://www.dcuguide.com/chronology.php?name=hypertime 

Part Two: Red, Blue, and Dead 

I'm not hard to figure when it comes to favorite Imaginary Stories - I went for the blockbusters. The tales below are all faves, save for one. 

"The Amazing Story of Superman-Red and Superman-Blue", Superman #162, 1963. Chided by the tiny Kandorians for his failure to eliminate crime and disease and - oh, yes - return Kandor to normal size, Superman undergoes a risky experiment to broaden his mental capabilities and work that to-do list. The expansion instead splits him into two identical Supes, each with all the requisite powers and an enhanced super-intellect to boot. For ever after, it’s all good: problems global and personal are solved, including Lana and Lois each getting a Supe, with the latter couple retiring to New Krypton, built by the now life-sized Kandorians. The lack of tension in this utopian yarn by Leo Dorfman is often cited as a fault, but the future SNAG (Sensitive New Age Guy) in me found this to be a highly satisfying comic book experience. (Trivia Alert: while a strong appeal of this tale is the uplifting art of Curt Swan and George Klein, Weisinger nonetheless had Lois Lane regular Kurt Schaffenberger re-draw the faces of Lois and Lana for their scenes in the last chapter. This despite Swan's ability to draw soulful renditions of those characters, as seen in his Lois in the first page of the story.)

 

"The Fantastic Story of Superman's Sons", Superman #166, 1964. Though Superman's wife is never identified in this tale, she IS human, and the twin sons they produce are an unmatched set: one with dad's powers, the other earthbound like mom. That the mortal brother might have a slight self-esteem problem is an obvious thematic choice, but one that's given thoughtful and compelling development in this book-length telling.

 

Similarly, readers will likely guess what it takes for young Kal II to prove himself, but getting there - including a sojourn in Kandor and a time-visit to Granddaddy Jor-el - is a lot of fun. Another Swan/Klein treasure, scripted by sci-fi veteran Edmund Hamilton, who tells a story both sweet and adventuresome. 

"The Super Family from Krypton", Superboy #95, 1962. Jor-el and Lara escape in a conveniently enlarged rocket with their infant son. The space immigrants are befriended by the Kents but sensationalized in the press, thanks to a hot-headed reporter named Perry White. An extended stay on Earth looks dicey until Jor-el, in addition to a few Superman-style rescues, begins shaking his super-Einstein groove thing. Whenever there's a problem (usually mythos-related), he's there with a fix: Kandor, Luthor's hair, Kryptonite, even legs for Lori Lemaris! Eventually, the el family does go house hunting in outer space, but not before handing off  Kal's Superboy duties - by way of a super-powered formula - to the Kent's adopted son, an Earthling named Clark.

 

 This yarn is a sentimental fave, but a re-reading reveals how intentionally Superboy was designed for younger fans. The writing is simplistic, and each turn of events earns a narrative re-cap ("Ironic, eh readers? In this story, Lex Luthor DOES have hair and LIKES Superboy!"). One also finds interesting foreshadowing of the later "Superman Red and Blue", what with more than one super-powered hero on the scene and Jor-el's mental capability to solve most every problem. 

"The Death of Superman", Superman #149, 1961; perhaps the most famous IS. Having gone to great lengths to trick The Man of Steel (and the reader) into believing he's reformed, Luthor lures Superman to a concentrated Kryptonite radiator and kills him. An impressive array of super-heroes and world and interplanetary leaders file before Superman's body in state. Supergirl, still unknown to the public at the time, captures Luthor and takes him to trial in Kandor, where he's sentenced to eternity in the Phantom Zone. Many folks cite this as their all-time favorite IS. I don't like it, for the obvious reason that Superman dies, but also because he's tricked and murdered; there's nothing resembling a fair fight to the finish.  It was a powerful and important story of the era - written by none other than Jerry Siegel - but when I was trying to reassemble a run of '60s Superman comics a few years ago, I put this one off till the end.  

The above represent a small sampling of the stories and ideas that appeared beneath the IS banner. Left  undiscussed are Jimmy Olsen marrying Supergirl, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne growing up as brothers, Jimmy and Lucy Lane's son marrying Superman and Lois Lane's daughter (ulp - first cousins?!), Lois as a Super-Maid from Krypton, Lex Luthor variously as Clark's brother, Kal-el's father, and Lois' husband, and Superman's serial marriages - all in one telling - to Lois, Lana, and Lori. 

Events of the later 1960s slowed the IS output to a trickle before they effectively disappeared. For one thing, DC lost me as a reader. This was not particularly significant on its face, but as a representation of comic fans old and new who, like me, were gravitating to the Marvel Comics line, it was a big deal. Seeking lost ground, DC began to emulate Marvel's multi-issue sagas. As Craig Shutt notes in his intro to DC's Greatest Imaginary Stories, the format left little room for narrative-busting IS's and wacky, DC-style one-offs (bad news for Jimmy Olsen as Were-Wolf fans).

By 1971, Julius Schultz had succeeded Mort Weisinger, and he quickly leaned into re-vamping DC's heaviest hitter. According to Shutt, the former Flash editor had not much cared for the IS concept, and he certainly had plenty of non-imaginary issues on the stove, what with neutralizing Kryptonite and making over Clark as a tele-journalist.  

And so the great stable of Imaginary Stories became largely a thing of DC's fabled past. Julie Schultz could well have been considered the genre's executioner, had he not green-lighted what I consider the greatest Imaginary Story of all time. 

Resources: The stories listed above, excepting Superboy’s and including Lois Lane’s from Part One, can be found in the trade paperback DC's Greatest Imaginary Stories. The volume also includes a few sort-of-IS's of several other super-heroes.  "The Amazing Story of Superman-Red and Superman-Blue" and "The Death of Superman" have been reprinted often; both appear in the enjoyable sampler The Greatest Superman Stories Ever Told, another of DC's many compilations. And a complete scan of "Red and Blue" is at http://supermanthrutheages.com/tales2/redblue/ 

Part Three: Whatever Happened to The Silver Age? 

In 1986, Julius Schwartz retired from DC. Concurrent with the departure of the man who'd been a presence at the company for some forty years and Superman’s editor since 1971 was the arrival of John Byrne. The writer/artist was charged with no less than a total re-boot of Superman: the character would be re-created on a blank slate, with no obligation on Byrne's part to acknowledge any portion of the Man of Steel's history or continuity, both of which reached linearly - if somewhat tenuously - back to Superman's first appearance in 1938. 

So it was that Schwartz - at the end of his tenure as steward of the comics’ greatest super-hero - faced both a challenge and an opportunity that were unique in Superman's 48 year run: to bring an incredibly huge body of work to a fitting close. The result was a nearly 50 page epic entitled "Whatever Happened to The Man of Tomorrow?",  presented in two parts in the September '86 issues of Superman and Action (the Superman comic, #423, became the last issue of the series that is now called Superman Volume 1). Set ten years in "the future", the story relates Lois Lane's first hand account of Superman's disappearance and presumed death a decade earlier.

Here I should say that I did not follow Superman comics in the 1970s and '80s. In recent years, I've read a reprint here and there, but there are elements of that era I couldn't understand if I wanted to - most notably the rationale behind and execution of the "Crisis on Infinite Earths" stories. So while I'd noted the trade paperback reprint of  “Whatever Happened” during my bookstore Superman scoutings back around the turn of the millennium, I initially considered the 1986 copyright warning enough that this story was not for a Supe fan from the 1960s. 

Wrong, very wrong! Here are the Daily Planet's classic "staff of four", plus Lana, Krypto, Supergirl, the Legion of Super-Heroes, and members of the JLA. Causing vastly more trouble than usual are Luthor, Brainiac, Bizarro, the Legion of Super Villains, and - for truly vintage fans - even Toyman and Prankster. A '60s pedigree is perfect for this epic.  

And while the large cast list might remind you of a Fantastic Four wedding, have no doubt: this IS an epic tale, deftly spun by Alan Moore with art by Curt Swan. There are heroic deaths - quite a few - and heartfelt pathos. There are surprising plot twists and satisfying resolutions. There are subtly dropped clues that will send you back through the story again. I will not spoil it for you - you would rightly hate me. The paperback edition is still available, and if you've read this far, for six bucks you should definitely pick it up. I pulled my copy to review for this column, and I re-read every word. The story is a true gift to fans like us.

 

Now - about the "Imaginary" status: Moore states on page one that "This is an Imaginary Story". Then he adds "Aren't they all?" Andrew Helfer, Schultz's successor in the editor's chair, points out in the forward to the paperback edition that directly following the original publication of this tale, ALL the Superman stories of the past would become "Imaginary"; Byrne's re-boot would implicitly make it so. The events in “Whatever Happened”, this would seem to suggest, are as “real” as the reader cares to make them.  

So where does that leave a "pre-boot" fan like me? Did the Superman I loved as a boy really come to career's end in a battle royale at the Fortress of Solitude, summer of '86? 

Well, the Libra in me loves indecision. But I hope you'll decide for yourself. Maybe all the Superman stories ARE imaginary, but few are this good!

Resources and addenda: The trade paperback of "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?" lists for $5.95, but is now officially out of print. Check your local comic shop as well as ebay (a copy is going cheap at this writing). Amazon currently has a selection of new & used, but they're pricey. You can also find the story in its original comic book incarnation, via Superman #423 and Action #583, at reasonable prices on ebay. For the background information in Part Three of this article, I've borrowed liberally from the paperback edition’s forward, written by Paul Kupperberg. Many thanks to Bruce Dettman for his on-going inspiration by example, and for his gentle but persistent badgering of me to write this article! 

September 2007


Book Review

The Krypton Companion

Edited by Michael Eury

TwoMorrows Publishing, 2006

Reviewed by Alfred Walker

 

How can I say an unkind word about this book? Honestly, where else could a guy like me go for information like this? Men of Tomorrow by Gerard Jones, you say, and I say, yes, but that book put me to sleep early every night. Eddie Zeno's wonderful biography of Curt Swan and Mark Voger's similar tome on Kurt Schaffenberger, you reply, and I note, yes, those are good books to have, but you're still talking only two of several Silver Age Superman artists. Older, out-of-print fanzines, you retort, where a few of the Krypton Companion interviews first appeared some years back, to which I query: Got any? 

The joy in this book virtually jumps off the pages. It's the literary equivalent of a kaleidoscope, with each piece of colored glass an attempt to shine a light on the minds of the editors, artists, and writers who nurtured Superman from the dawn of the Silver Age to the end of that fabled continuity in the the mid 1980s. There are lon-ng profiles of Mort Weisinger, Edmund Hamilton, and Curt Swan, along with similarly lengthy interviews with Al Plastino, Jim Shooter, and Cary Bates. And tag each of those preceding phrases with "and many more". There are art samples (somewhat sadly, reproduced in b&w) from just about every artist of the era, with some fun rarities you've probably never seen. There are timelines for all the Superman-related titles from 1958 through 1986. And there is a chapter length roundtable finale with sixteen Superman creatives (Mark Waid, John Byrne, Alex Ross, etc.) which, though I frankly haven't read every word of, I do know how it ends ("What is your Silver Age Superman guilty pleasure?"). 

So what's not to like here? Well—how 'bout the font? This is the first book ever for which I've had to get up out of bed and find my glasses. You say, c'mon Alfred, you're not forty anymore, and I say that's my point: who IS?!? At least half the folks to whom this book appeals would appreciate just a little larger type, and maybe not so many gray backgrounds. Then there's the organization: there sort of isn't any. There are chapters with sub-headings labeled 1958-1964, 1965-1970, etc., but the material contained within does not necessarily coincide with those periods. And there just isn't much thematic glue. It's really a lot like a binder I keep (and I know some of you have similar creations) of Superman articles I've found and printed off the internet over the last eight or ten years. I love my binder! But if I were going to publish it as a book, I think I'd feel compelled to bring some kind of unity to all the pieces and parts. 

Do these perceived shortcomings prevent my recommending this volume to you without reservation or qualification? Great Scott, not! The price is too cheap and life's too short. I'm sure the noted book reviewer Abraham Lincoln would once again agree: people who like this sort of thing will find this to be the sort of thing they like! 

September 2007


O Brother, Who Art Thou?

(or The Spurious Super-Sibs)

by Alfred Walker

First, the dirty laundry: DC Comics recycled stories. The pair of tales we're about to discuss features the same concept, the same key plot device, and even some identical narrative and dialog. I'm no expert on how often this happened, but in searching the net for images of our featured covers, I practically tripped over another pair of shared stories. The impetus for re-using a reasonably good story concept was likely the very reason Superman's editor rarely if ever got busted for it: reader turnover. DC's real-life version of Perry White, Mort Weisinger, figured he had any given kid's attention for about 5 years (dead on in my case); why not dust off a yarn from the previous decade?

So here we are with two tales of young men who each seem to be Kal-el's big brother. They share identical evidence, which also serves as our evidence that someone pulled 1953's "Superman's Big Brother" (Superman #80) as a source for 1961's "Superboy's Big Brother" (Superboy #89). In both tellings, Clark's super-senses detect an unearthly rocket on a crash course with his adopted planet. Superman/boy intercepts the craft, ensuring a soft if fiery touchdown, duly noted by our hero as reminiscent of his own Earth landing. An unconscious, perfectly human-looking alien is found inside, along with a star chart inscribed with (ulp!) Jor-el's handwriting! Supe's surprise is compounded by the text of his dad's notes, which indicate that the map is to serve as a navigational aid for this trip to Earth by... his son!

And there you have it: the arguably thin strip of evidence Superman and Superboy each uses to conclude that the big, amnesiac guy in spandex snoozing in the rocket - Halk Kar in the earlier tale, Mon-el in the later - is his brother. 

Fortunately for this article, the stories' similarities, for the most part, end there as well. And comparing the differences is at least as fun as noting DC's in-house plagiarism. Rule #1: don't get hung up on continuity. In Superman's world, most of the Fifties are to the Sixties as apples are to Applejacks. Our earlier story here is very pre-Silver Age, so we get nowhere wondering why Superman doesn't recall the "big brother" experience recounted in the Superboy tale.

What we can note with interest are the different personalities displayed by Superman and his teenaged earlier self. Superman is unfailingly deferential to the man he believes is his older sib. As Halk Kar's powers slowly wane, Supe secretly covers the big guy's blue-trunked butt in one super-deed after another, even though ol' Halk is a bit of a blowhard whom we may not mind getting a little comeuppance.  

In contrast, Superboy presents as a narrow-thinking jerk. When the holes in his "he's my brother from Krypton" construct start to appear, Superboy suspects Mon-el of a plot to deceive him. This is apparently an easier route for the Boy of Steel than stepping back to recall that he himself connected the dots on the El family theory. Instead, he sets out to bust Mon-el's chops, and comes within a minute or two of poisoning the guy to death.

Because he's unwittingly put Mon-el at death's door, Superboy must whisk through the last page or so of the story tapping every bit of his super-teenaged ingenuity. At the comparable point in his own tale, Superman has no such dilemma to solve and is allowed the space to show a good deal of affection toward Halk, along with the bittersweet sorrow that comes with the discovery of his "brother's" true identity and Halk's need to return to his own world. Superman has played a supporting role in this tale in more ways than one, but we leave the story impressed with his loneliness and longing.

Superboy, on the other hand, escapes his yarn without a proper apology to Mon-el, making only a hasty promise to find a cure for the cosmic lead poisoning he induced in the poor fellow - this as he banishes Mon-el to the Phantom Zone in the story's final panel!  Indeed, much like Mon-el's luck, the tale seems to just run out.  Quite an ignominious start for a character who went on to become a Silver Age staple, albeit in the 30th century when Brainiac 5 finally heals and frees the guy (hey - what's an extra thousand years in the Phantom Zone? It's not like you have to shave everyday or anything...).

While an idyllic relationship between lost brothers is the theme implied on Superboy #89's cover (mild-to-grossly misleading covers were '60s standard issue), the Boy of Steel's impulsive, immature, perhaps even hormonal behavior is the constant through this tale. He even excuses himself from a school history quiz to zip back to ancient Egypt where he fact-checks one of his answers, a departure from Clark's oft-noted practice of missing a few questions to hide his super-intellect. Behavioral traits play a strong role in the Superman story, too. Like his TV counterpart, the comic book Supe of the '50s was largely earthbound, his authors sometimes struggling to find suitable challenges for the Man of Tomorrow. Watching diligently over a blustery big “brother” who doesn't realize his powers are on the ebb is a rather neat and novel vehicle for Superman to take through this tale.

“Superman’s Big Brother” was first published before my time, but I found it - and you can, too - in Superman in the Fifties, a nice compilation in trade paperback from DC. Of course I do remember Mon-el, whose story you can read at http://superman.ws/tales2/mon-el/1 The first time I saw that great Curt Swan cover, I was just as excited as Superboy!

In honor of everybody's big and little brothers, especially "Superman's Brother" Fred Crane, and in memory of my big brother, William Walker, 1943 - 2007.

BASEMENT BONUS!

In the future, no one will need a comb.

May 2007


Good Years--Great Story

By Alfred Walker 

Here's something I did once I got to high school—perhaps you did, too: I studied the yearbooks from the previous couple of years, the ones with pictures of the seniors who'd since graduated and therefore with whom I would NOT be attending school. Perhaps that was just as well, because those older kids seemed impossibly cool, good-looking, and self-assured. To quote Animal House author Chris Miller noting the college version of this dynamic: There Were Giants Then. Even as my own class grew older, cooler, and arguably more good looking—eventually and astonishingly becoming seniors ourselves—a part of me knew we'd never achieved the lofty heights of wholeness those older kids inhabited. 

I had an analogous experience in my relationship with comic books. I began buying and reading in early 1960 (age 7), but thanks to DC's own version of the yearbook—their so-called Annuals—I was exposed to hearty helpings of stories that had originally run in the years before my time. And boy, were they cool! 

1958 and '59 were amazing years for Superman and his friends, family, and foes. As Editor Mort Weisinger's staff lay the groundwork for a mythos-like continuity that would stay at least partly in tact for nearly three decades, those two years alone saw the introduction of Supergirl, Brainiac, the bottled city of Kandor, the Fortress of Solitude, the Legion of Superheroes, Lori Lemaris, and that Seinfeld fave - Bizarro. Superman himself (including his teenage self) was gearing up to appear in eight different titles that each published between 8 and 12 issues a year, so there were plenty of slots in which these new characters and conventions could be of great utility.  

One of the best stories from the late '50s—and my favorite—involved none of the aforementioned supporting cast or contrivances. In fact, Superman is notably on his own, with much of what would normally appear as dialogue replaced with Supe's balloon encapsulated thoughts. For me, Superman’s New Face (Action 239, April 1958) evokes some of the stark hopelessness of the great TV episode Panic in the Sky, even more so than its comic book equivalent discussed in a column below.          

The Man of Steel's bandaged visage on the cover is no doubt a salute to the classic film version of The Invisible Man, and represents a stock gimmick of the era: a visual tease intended to make the potential buyer wonder, "What's going on here?" (more typical examples came to include any "cast" regular besides Supe with sudden super-powers, any of his friends shockingly appearing as his sworn enemy, and anyone—including Supe—with a futuristically enlarged brain and the obligatory light bulb shaped head). 

But, gimmicks aside, Superman has a serious problem. He's flown a defective experimental atomic generator away from its earthly confines so it can explode "harmlessly in the stratosphere." However, the unit was powered in part by kryptonite (doh!) and the explosion has scarred the chiseled good looks of the Man of Steel. His angst has less to do with vanity than protecting the secret of his alter ego, Clark Kent. Until a solution can be found, Superman will have to hide his disfigurement from the public. 

And his readers. The nature of his scarring and his full facial appearance is not revealed to us until late in the story. Whenever Supe is between full bandage wraps or, at one point, a scrap metal mask (nothing says "I'm depressed" quite like covering your mug with part of a sunken ship!), we see his face only in shadow. It's an effective approach and, in the hands of artist Wayne Boring, less hokey than it sounds. My love of Curt Swan's art is well documented elsewhere on this page, but I find Boring's stark and angular style right for this story. 

Superman's dilemma is treated with great gravitas, both in the telling and within his own comic book habitat.  His bleak mood and the concern of the world at large are so effectively conveyed that we may not even stop to wonder what the big deal is, at least as far as the planet's concerned: he CAN keep on being Superman, right? Of course, Supe's concern is salvaging his Clark Kent persona, and with that in mind, he runs through a smorgasbord of cataclysmic facial treatments in futile attempts to erase the kryptonite scars. Finally, he can shirk his Daily Planet duties no longer, and the vast weight of this tale comes to balance neatly on a small strip of adhesive tape that Clark affixes across his forehead. We are so amazed that we may, again, fail to ask: What was up with covering his whole face? 

The riddle's answer straddles the fence between clever and DC-silly, but, in my view, never quite falls off into the latter camp. I'll not reveal it here, not so much in avoidance of a spoiler but because a written explanation would seem pretty tedious. Alas, the only reprint of this tale I'm aware of appeared in the third Giant Superman Annual which hit the stands in 1961. So drop me an email or leave a post at Dave Schutz's Friendly Discussion Board, and we can talk about how Supe faces down this earthshaking problem—not to mention how it all fits under one band-aid.

Alfred Walker

alretta@msn.com 

March 2007


TWO FOR THE SHOW

TV Adventures in the Comics

By Alfred Walker 

I can't believe how engaged by life my four year old is. He already has a girl friend in his pre-school class, and she is playing him like a violin! My own memories of that age—about as far back as I can reach—have a hazy, embryonic feel to them. One of the few scenes I can still lock in is our first television set materializing in the living room. Here were my dad and big brother having a seemingly well-informed discussion of how to best adjust the reception on this strange new appliance. Where had they learned this stuff? (in my brother's case, during hours in front of the neighbors' TV, ultimately shaming my folks into keeping up with the Jones’ or actually the Brooks’.)

Fast forward a few months to 1957: still four, still no girlfriend, but an active relationship with the 5:00 afternoon adventure block on the tube: Cisco Kid, Sir Lancelot, Hopalong Cassidy, and The Adventures of Superman. I'm lucky I can remember the names of those first three, but the Superman episodes I caught near the end of its first run were the start of an enduring relationship.

I barely knew the alphabet when TAOS went off the air. But by the summer of 1960, I considered myself a good reader and—with a bike, a neighborhood drugstore, and 15 cents of allowance at my disposal—I was once again enjoying the adventures of the original character appearing in Superman Magazine.

Then in perhaps 1962, the TV series kicked back in via local syndication, serving as a catalyst for both great jubilation back then and my getting around to a point in this millennium. Namely: the existence of a disconnect, a dichotomy, if you will, between Superman's TV world and the one he inhabited in those great Silver Age comic books of the Sixties. While both versions prominently featured Lois, Jimmy, and Perry,  nowhere in TV's earthbound cast of somewhat dim baddies and befuddled scientists would you find the comics' Brainiac, Supergirl, a leaner keener Luthor, and an ever sharpening focus on the planet Krypton and its growing band of survivors.

This impacted a lot of fans my age. If we saw any Superman TV in first run, we were little more than toddlers—way too young for comic books. And by the time we were old enough to begin devouring Superman, Action, Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen, and World's Finest on our own terms, TAOS was appearing as syndicated reruns—with the earliest episodes looking downright old!  Of course for most of us, the excitement of Superman on TV and the stellar performances of George Reeves and company initially trumped any concern with continuity.

Ahh, "continuity" —I learned that word, like so many others, in the comics, when a  writer to Superman's Metropolis Mailbag gave voice to a question likely troubling many a nine year old: In the TV show, why doesn't Jimmy Olsen use his Superman signal watch? Came the reply from (Ed.): The TV series was filmed before Jimmy received his signal watch. The episodes are based on an earlier continuity.

Wow. A short answer that spoke volumes. But there's more, much more that ol' (Ed.) didn't say, and which took me  decades to discover. For example, he didn't say that he, Mort Weisinger, had been the story editor for the TV show! And that part of his gig was ensuring that there WAS a good bit of continuity twixt the series and the comics. And that if you came to DC's offices on Lexington Avenue and scoured their back issues (allegedly, that was allowed Back in The Day), you'd find in the ones that ran concurrently with the TV show SCADS of stories with video counterparts.

A couple of these are currently available in DC's trade paperback Superman in the Fifties. And they happen to be the comic book renditions of two of the finest TV episodes. "The Menace from the Stars", from the January 1954 issue of World's Finest, is obviously the four color companion to the great "Panic in the Sky". Even more apparent are the similarities of the March 1955 Superman tale "The Girl Who Didn't Believe in Superman" and the 1954 season finale "Around the World with Superman."

 

Considered a favorite episode featuring an endearing and unique performance by George Reeves (he visits a blind girl in his Superman persona, changing out only from his glasses, not his Daily Planet civvies), "Around the World" unfortunately gets the silly treatment in the comics. It's a gimmick story, penned by the author of many a Batman-gimmicky yarn, Bill Finger. The hook here is that try as he might, Superman can't convince young Alice of his super powers. What plays out warmly and economically on TV uses up half of the comic version's pages, to the point of tedium. Alice comes off as a hard-to-please brat, with none of the underlying heart conveyed so well by Judy Anne Nugent in the video version. The reader is hard put to feel as invested in the outcome of Alice's super-surgery, which involves one more silly twist not seen on TV: Supe performs the operation himself, after speed-reading the contents of an entire medical library. Thus, the tension of George Reeves' stern Superman assisting the perspiring surgeon via x-ray vision is replaced with a display of jaunty solo super-doctoring by way of Evelyn Wood.

We can question whether the TV episode is a stripped down version of the comic book yarn, or if the latter is a padded out treatment of the former. But it's evident here and with "Panic"/"Menace" that the half hour episodes tend not  to translate to 10 or so pages of comic book without some added material. In "The Menace from the Stars", the extended story makes for a pretty good read - even standing next to the best episode of the series! 

"Menace" and "Panic" kick off identically—Supe suffers amnesia after knocking an earth-threatening asteroid off course—but while "Panic" relies on a swell amnesiac performance by George Reeves (with great support from the Planet gang), "Menace" (author unknown) spins an intricate detective story in which our clueless hero tries to solve the riddle of Superman with only a costume to go on.  As evidence of his powers begins to mount, Supe decides that it's all coming from the suit - and that this missing Superman fellow must have been a friend who left HIM the tights and cape for safe keeping. The super-powered costume is a theory merely hinted at on TV, but one expanded to good effect in the comic book as Supe tentatively tackles one super-feat after another. His cluelessness is quite convincing, and his somewhat clumsy efforts to "do what Superman would have done" are touching. His amnesia hangs on a lot longer in this telling - even after the final confrontation with the asteroid - right up till the last two panels. By then, Supe's willingness to get on with life with nothing but his suit and a blank slate has earned our admiration.

When I first discovered these stories, I assumed they were a rare find: comic tales of Superman that were covered on TV (or vice versa). That, in fact, was the original premise of this piece. But in conversations with Lou Koza and Carl Glass, a few more titles were recalled. That prompted me to break one of my own rules and research my topic. Lo and behold, there in one of Jim Nolt's online archives (1998) was a list of twenty five adventures appearing in both media! I guess you're never too old (or too late) to learn. I do wonder how it would have been: old enough to read those comic books and watch the TV versions play out during Superman's first run. Anyone out there qualify?

Links:

"The Girl Who Didn't Believe in Superman" is posted here at the Fortress site.

http://superman.ws/tales4/the_girl_who_didn't_believe

The list of comic book/TV stories is here on The Adventures Continue site.

http://www.jimnolt.com/tacjr_025.htm

There is a fun comic style version of TV's Panic in the Sky created by fellow Richmonder Nightwing located here.

http://nightwing.superman.ws/adventures/panic/panic_in_the_sky.htm

 

And if you'd like to answer that question at the end of the last graph, email me at awalker@parkgrp.com

 

April 2006


A Non-Artist's Appreciation of

Curt Swan

by Alfred Walker

Since beginning these columns last spring, I've figured there would be one about Curt Swan. The "basement" angle is certainly there: a walk down the cellar steps will yield a copy of his 2002 bio by Eddie Zeno, Curt Swan: A Life in Comics, not to mention a long box of Superman comic books from the 1950s and '60s, with all but two covers drawn by Mr. Swan. 

But beyond the obviousness of the subject matter, I've spent a lot of time wondering what to say. There is the problem of writing about something visual, although art and movie critics do it all the time (so do writers, come to think of it). And there is the challenge of saying something new: Google "Curt Swan" and you will find scads of informative and visually delicious sites, including a nice look back by the artist himself. 

As I make my way toward my own thoughts, here are some Curt Swan basics:

Born in 1920 and growing up in Minneapolis, Mr. Swan's artistic gifts were readily apparent to his teachers, who recruited him for many school-related projects. He even designed, scripted, and illustrated his own single-copy comic book as a boy, although an overt passion for the comics is not evident in his interviews and recollections. In 1940, he went from the National Guard into the Army and was shipped to Ireland, where he morphed himself from mess sergeant to illustrator for Stars and Stripes. After the war, the recently married Mr. Swan settled in NYC to look for work, and at the suggestion of a friend, wound up taking a job at DC comics. He felt this might be a two-year venture, and in fact left early on to work for an ad agency. The money was better at DC, however, so he returned and, by his account, learned how to stand up to the problematic behavior of boss Mort Weisinger.

In 1955, having drawn a slew of DC characters including regular stints with Superboy and Jimmy Olsen, Swan was assigned to work on a 3-D project with established Superman artists Wayne Boring and Al Plastino. While The Three Dimensional Adventures of Superman ran for only one issue, Weisinger liked Mr. Swan's work and, in the artist's words, "soon after that he put me on Superman steady."

 

Steady all right!  Mr. Swan drew every cover of Superman, save two, starting in 1957 and going through the 1960s. The artwork on the stories inside shifted in those years from mostly Boring to predominantly Swan. The pattern was similar with Action Comics, and Mr. Swan also continued to keep his deft hands in the adventures of Jimmy Olsen (the first 108 covers!) and Superboy. He not only survived the Weisinger reign at DC, he thrived with the next editor, Julius Schwartz, and continued as a principal artist with the Man of Steel until the scripted continuity that marked the Silver Age finally ended in 1986. DC continued to use Mr. Swan's services on various occasions, with some of his final drawings—of Brainiac—appearing shortly after his death in the summer of 1996.

My connection with the art of Curt Swan is an emotional one. First, understand that I am forever hopeless with pencil, ink, and crayons. I would draw the standard A-frame house in elementary school and the chimney would always slant at the same angle as the roof. Know, too, that during my early years with Superman comics, I didn't spend time considering that anyone DREW them at all. The pictures were part of the story, and it was all just THERE. Yet with all that ignorance and non-artistic aptitude in play, today I know it was the art of Curt Swan that drew me toward Superman and his friends and antagonists week after week. When I see those classic covers now, I get a twinge that reconnects me with the eight-year-old standing at the spinner rack in Blair's Drugstore. Now as then, I can study the cover of Superman #149 "The Death of Superman" and wish it weren't so. There are panels in "The Dynamic Duo of Kandor" (Supe and Jimmy as Nightwing & Flamebird) so familiar that it doesn't seem possible I laid them aside for forty minutes, much less forty years. When I re-visit old stories drawn  by Wayne Boring or Al Plastino, I often think "hmmm..", but with Mr. Swan's work, it's always "Ahhh!"

 

Mr. Swan's artwork could accomplish a dozen things to improve a story: the script seemed more believable, Superman appeared heroic AND human, Jimmy could look thoughtful, Lois came across as someone capable of acting like an adult, Luthor's expressions suggested a multi-layered personality, Krypto looked like a real dog, and the shenanigans in the Mr. Mxyzptlk stories—Mr. Swan's favorites—while always  ludicrous, were rendered quite realistically.

Oh, and Supergirl. Jim Mooney's somewhat cutesy rendition of the Girl of Steel carried her through all those issues of Action in the 1960s, for better or worse. But Mr. Swan's version suggests a much more interesting character—more depth, a subtler beauty, potentially more heroic.

With the benefit of a long distance lens, this comic book lover can see that Curt Swan's art was the glue that held together the greatness of Superman's saga in the sixties. He drew the Superman many of us remember, not as a cartoon character, but as a compassionate and—Kryptonian heritage notwithstanding—very HUMAN super-hero. For myself, I can't imagine this connection occurring with any other DC artist of the era. 

Girls and soul music finally led me away from comic books as a young teen. As much as anything else, Curt Swan's art has drawn me back.

There are some great resources for Curt Swan on the web. To note a couple: Who Drew Superman, at http://www.supermanartists.comics.org/superart/superart.html has examples from multiple artists, including details on who inked for whom. There's a nice look back by Mr. Swan himself at http://theages.superman.ws/swan.php  Eddie Zeno's bio mentioned above, pictured below, and featuring some wonderful color collages (much nicer than the ones in this article, which I assembled myself) is available at Amazon, in comic shops, etc.


Women, Children, and....Annuals?

In case of fire, it's family first. Then the cats and Layla the dog - who's a half step in front of me whenever there's excitement anyway. After that, no set plan. But sometimes I think I'd be hard-pressed not to run down to the basement and grab the big blue binder with all eight Giant Superman Annuals inside. I mean, do the math: 640 pages of classic Supe stories saved from the flames for my sons and future grandchildren, and I'd still have a hand free to grab the good silver on the way out.

What was the special attraction of these amazing books - then and now? They had the power to incite a generally low impact 10 year old to lobby hard for an allowance increase to make the 25c "cover charge". Those same covers could make a grown man cry when he saw their images on ebay 40 years later, years during which he'd begun to wonder if the books had really existed - or were products of a wishful imagination.

Let's start with those covers then. I am a sloppy person who craves order. And were the Annual covers ever orderly! Maybe a little too Brady Bunch for some readers, but I liked how those neat little boxes put it all up front. And the art was clean - and new - Curt Swan: the characters may have been established and the stories reprints, but each got a fresh Swan rendering to fit the cover.

While they weren't really "Annuals", appearing as they did every six months, they were unquestionably "Giant". Eighty pages was more comic book than I could read in a day - or even two - unless we're talking sick in bed. One annual equaled the literary heft of three regular comics, with an extra story to spare. It was the stories, after all - once the purchase had been financed and the dual excitement of the cool cover and actual ownership had faded a bit - that it was all about.

While it would be great fun to discuss all the stories from all the annuals, that would use up quite a bit of the glasshouse site - assuming I could actually complete such a column in this lifetime. Instead, we'll peek inside the marvelous cover (have I mentioned I like the covers?) of Giant Superman Annual #1. There's a generous offering of tales, seemingly targeted at exactly the demographic I represented in the summer of 1960: a relatively new but avid Superman fan, hungry for history and mythos-malleable.

Note the dutiful reprint, for example, of Supergirl's origin story, which had first been published just a little over a year earlier. This might seem superfluous from our long distance lens in the 21st century, but that story was new to me! More to the point : Editor Mort Weisinger and company seemed to be designing this edition as a Superman Family Primer; this could serve as your first ever Superman experience, and you'd be on solid ground for the rest of the Sixties.

The placement of the very first story in the very first annual, then, is both touching and calculated. As Michael Grost (I borrowed from him last month, too) notes on his Classic Comic Books site, "Superman's First Exploit" fills in here as an origin tale. The most recent Superman origin story at that time dated back to 1948 and hardly met the new and revised factual specs of the Weisinger era mythos ( "The Story of Superman's Life", discussed last month, was still a year away). "Exploit", from 1956, does feature a one page review of Kal-el's departure from Krypton, and even establishes a couple of Silver Age conventions: Superman's power of super-recall, which has seemingly lain dormant all these years until he's prodded to remember for the first time his last moments on his home planet; and the re-telling of key Super-events with new elements added retroactively, here an account of little Kal-el actually leaving his spaceship en route to Earth! Even with all that heavy lifting, "Superman's First Exploit" is an engaging yarn with a good hearted twist at the end.

With this sort-of-an-origin tale established, the key faces and places of the Superman family take their orderly turn in the reprint spotlight. And if every story isn't great, it's still a wham-bam lineup. There's the cover story from Lois Lane #1, the "Untold" origin of Lori Lemaris, the afore-mentiond Supergirl debut, and the first tale to feature the arctic Fortress of Solitude, which some readers consider the first Silver Age Superman story. The goofy side of the Silver Age is also well represented, with a "fat Lois" story that screams political incorrectness, an "Execution of Krypto" yarn, and two wacky Jimmy Olsen tales, in which he respectively materializes in Superboy's Smallville and grows a futuristically large brain (well in advance of similar cranial expansions for Supe and Lois). Yep, more than you could read on a school day!

Although the cover of the first annual proclaimed "the greatest super-stories ever published", a more descriptive blurb might have been All in the Family. Themes were more clearly delineated in the next seven annuals, and generally in the "80 Page Giants" that proliferated in their wake. Annual #2 gave us Great Villians, for example; #4 featured tales of time and space; #5 was an all Krypton volume; #6 collected one-shot super-powered characters; and #7 was a Silver Anniversary edition with a particularly handsome cover. My personal faves were #3, with its Strange Lives of Superman theme yielding a nice mix of stories, and the finely detailed Untold Stories of #8 - I was always a sucker for something like "The Untold Origin of Superman's Belt Loops".

I've found over the years that reading about these stories invariably makes me want to go back and read the stories themselves. Now I know that writing about them has the same effect. Hmm, 640 pages - too many for a work day. Meanwhile, I think I'll move that blue binder closer to the front door.

First editions of the original Giant Superman Annuals show up on ebay, other online sellers, and in comic shops. Annual #1 was reprinted in its entirety by DC in 1998, and copies surface in the same markets.Covers and story listings for all the annuals can be viewed at http://www.dcindexes.com/giants/80page.php. Michael Grost's writing on Superman comics can be found at http://members.aol.com/MG4273/comics.htm. The Walker Family Fire Evacuation Plan does not currently exist in printed form.


Up from the basement this month:

Alfred's beloved copy of Superman #146

I wish I could remember the exact issue of Superman for which I first plunked down my own ten toughly negotiated cents. Who knew it would be so hard to recall some 45 years later, or seem so important?

To be sure, misty memories of early exposure to the Man of Steel's literary exploits still glimmer. There was a family visit to the home of church acquaintances, where the son - a few years older than I - had a copy of Action 259 (1959) among his possessions (not that I noticed the issue number, but who could forget that image of Superman with his brain so evolved that his bald head looked a lot like a giant - oops, sorry!- this is a family-friendly site). I also recall a vacation with a day-long drive up the 95 (or whatever road existed) corridor, during which the very first Bizarro story - later traced to Superboy 68 (1958) - somehow wound up in my hands, perhaps purchased in desperation by my parents at one of our splurgey Howard Johnson's stops. And, as I've perused some of the old Silver Age sagas from the vantage point of the new millenium, Superman 139 (1960), with its Untold Story of Red Kryptonite, rings some ancient bell.

Still, I can't get a handle on just which issue counted as my first, commanding 67% of my weekly allowance. But I do clearly recall one early purchase, including discovering the issue in the spinner rack, getting my hands physically on it, and savoring the cover and title in disbelieving joy. "The Complete Story of Superman's Life!" proclaimed Superman 146, dated July 1961. Color me eight years old, and boy, did Mort Weisinger and company have my number! The cover blurbs addressed plenty of stuff I needed to know, and the quickest of flip-throughs revealed much, much more. The costume! The glasses! The Kents on their deathbed! I'd been a fan just long enough for this to be perfect timing. I'd have probably paid a whole quarter for it - if I'd had one.

Maybe Editor Weisinger missed a marketing opportunity by charging only 10 cents for this fact-packed issue, but he certainly succeeded in putting down a strong foundation for the Superman family mythos, one he'd already begun to build and would expand upon greatly as the Sixties unfolded. Michael E. Grost, writing for his excellent Classic Comic Books web site, notes that this story "is clearly written to educate new readers into the whole background of the Superman family of comic books. It proceeds with step by step, methodical deliberation through every element of the Weisinger world [and] forms a sort of logical backbone to the Superman series as a whole."

The story also performs some necessary housekeeping for the Weisinger era, which in 1961 was beginning the rise to its zenith. Continuity problems large and small had beset Superman in the comics practically since day one. One notable example involved the very existence of Superboy, alive and kickin' since the 1940s, but never acknowledged in a Superman origin story until now. Superman 146 afforded Mort and the gang an opportunity to say: This is the way it was and is! Anything else you know is probably wrong.

Not that I was tracking on any mythos malarkey that fine summer day, back home from Blair's Drugstore with my prized purchase. I was too busy happily working my way through the dizzying display of Super-events. In just 13 pages (admittedly a long story in those days), we witness Kal-el AND Krypto's deliverance from Krypton's destruction, the adoption and upbringing of young Clark Kent, the early training of Superboy - as well as the origins of his costume, robots, and glasses, a dissertation on the source of our hero's powers, the reunion with Krypto, and, well - more than can comfortably fit in even this laundry list of a sentence. As we used to say at the end of all those oral book reports in grade school: if you want to know more, you'll have to read the book.

"The Story of Superman's Life" - no matter any unstated motives of its creators  - effectively said to this young reader: Welcome to the family. Superman may have secrets from the rest of the world, but not from you - you're in! That was an important message to an introverted, book-loving kid, and one that would keep me parting company with my dimes and pennies for several years to come.

"The Story of Superman's Life" appears reprinted in Superman in the Sixties by DC Comics, available on amazon.com and in bookstores and comic shops. Old copies of Superman 146 often surface on ebay. The Classic Comic Books web site, noted above, can be found at http://members.aol.com/MG4273/comics.htm  It features thoughtful analysis of stories from most of the Superman related titles of the Silver Age.


Basement Story #1 (4-11-05):

The great Red Skelton once performed a skit in which he played a professor who explained the true meaning of well known quotations. When asked about "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones", Professor Red claimed that was a misquote. The actual line, he said, was "People who live in glass houses shouldn't!"

I would like to amend that to "People who live in glass houses should make sure they have a basement". And this is the basement in Carl and Leslie's Glass House. Or at least on their web page. Actually, it's MY basement, and Carl and Leslie have graciously opened their Glass House so that I can drag some things up the stairs for display and consideration.

 But first, a few housekeeping chores, like answering: 

Why me?  

I don't know -maybe ask Carl. I mean, I'm pretty much your garden-variety baby boomer Superman fanatic. I've got the DVDs of the old series with the great George Reeves, I've been rebuilding the Silver Age comic collection of my youth, I surf around the various Super-sites, and on a couple of occasions, I've spent 6 or 8 hours in my car in order to meet the beautiful Noel Neill. And I once put several days into building a midi-sequenced version of the '50s theme music, just for personal grins. Solid credentials to the lay person, perhaps, but nothing world-beating. So you'd have to ask Carl. He's a generous guy, and I think he sort of likes my writing. He was going to have me do a column called "Alfred's Closet", and I said nah, it's gotta be the basement. 

Why the basement?

For my money, it's the coolest room in the house, and not just because it's unheated. Even before our boys came along and claimed our last two bedrooms, there were unopened boxes down there dating back to my high school days. But now - there's even more gold in them thar holes. And as you can imagine, LOTS of Superman stuff: comic books, collections, old fanzines, biographies of actors and artists, even the remnants of my first-ever Superman costume, stitched lovingly by my own version of Ma Kent. Not to mention those boxes that haven't been opened since the sixties..

In the next weeks and months, I'll be hauling some of this stuff up into the Glass House so we can all have a look. I might succeed in making a few cogent comments, but at the very least I'll try to convey my sense of fun and excitement in sharing this treasure with some like-minded souls. In the meantime, you tall guys watch your heads down here. The lighting's not too good and there's a low ceiling.

Next time: The Story of Superman's Life!                                                                                   

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