Bolded entries are covered in this post, the others will be covered soon.
Justice League of America #90
“Plague of the Pale People”
Writer: Mike Friedrich
Penciler: Dick Dillin
Inker: Joe Giella
Cover Artist: Carmine Infantino
This comic is one of the clearer signs I’ve encountered of the intermediary stage we’re in at this moment of our journey, here in 1971. It’s a very mixed bag. It features attempts at world-building, more mature characterization, social relevance, and emotional impact, which are all commendable goals and will come to define the better works of the Bronze Age. However, each of those attempts is, at best, flawed, and Mike Friedrich makes a number of poor choices in order to accomplish his aims. The result is a very uneven book with a lot of potential that manages to fall frustratingly short on most every front. That really begins with the cover. It’s a reasonably solid image, though the composition feels rather unbalanced. It conveys its message, but there’s not a whole lot more I can say about it.
The story within begins, oddly, with a line from one of T.S. Eliot’s most famous poems, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” (More about this at the end of my commentary.) Here we meet a conveniently named girl with the moniker ‘Shally,’ who, we’re told, “sells seashells by the seashore,” or did, because now she lies dying. In a cool bit of world building, we see that she was attached to the “Atlantean Cultural Exchange,” whose existence makes perfect sense, though it gets exactly zero development. The girl herself is discovered by a young couple on the beach, soon joined by Batman himself, who notes that she seems to have been poisoned. He tries to contact Aquaman, but getting no response, he summons the rest of the JLA.
We flashback one month in the interim, as Clark Kent covers the disposal of a deadly chemical weapon by the military, who plan to scuttle the ship bearing the gas at sea, where it can’t harm anyone. Of course, this is the DC Universe, where every square inch of land, sea, and space is crawling with strange, undiscovered cultures, and the deadly substance happens to rain destruction upon the undersea city of Sareme, home of the Pale People, a somewhat simple submarine race that Atlantis had recently raised to a high technological level (originally appearing WAY back in Flash #109, another bit of world building). They worship an ancient “wonder plant,” the “Proof Rock” (get it?) which can detect dishonesty and perfidy, but the miraculous growth is smashed by the falling canisters, and in one fell swoop, the foundation for their culture is destroyed as well.
A charismatic leader, Prince Nebeur, arises among the Pale People and declares that he will be their new god and will lead them to conquest and glory. Then, without any preamble and completely off-panel…they defeat Atlantis. Just like that. The Saremites harness the chemical weapons that were dumped on their heads and turn them against their former benefactors. Apparently after a single skirmish, Aquaman, King of Atlantis, surrenders, saying that his people have no defense against the gas…though we will see in a few pages why this claim is ridiculous on the face of it.
There are a few major problems with this scene and what it represents for our story. First, in it Friedrich breaks one of the cardinal rules of writing, telling rather than showing, as the defining moment comes and goes without us seeing even a glimpse of it. Second, and much more significantly, Aquaman simply…gives up. Without a fight, without a desperate counterstrike, without so much as throwing a single punch. He just gives up. He doesn’t take the field like the warrior king he is. He surrenders, and in so doing, he submits all of Atlantis to the reign of a tyrant and an alien people.
This scene and much of what flows from it are wildly problematic because of the philosophy that drives it. It is forged from a foolish, unworkable personal pacifism that was common in the Vietnam era, the type that can only exist in a free country that gives its citizens the leisure and convenience of such scruples (this is not all pacifism, of course, just impractical, irrationally demanding strains). It becomes unworkable the moment there is a true struggle for survival in the offing, and it absolutely cannot function at the national level. Even neutral nations like Switzerland will defend themselves at need, and in our fallen and fractious world, all nations sometimes face outside forces that want what they have.
The doctrine of Just War is an old and respected one (I ascribe to a fairly Augustinian version myself), but the spirit that leads us to seek out such philosophies is borne from the knowledge that some things are worth fighting, and indeed, dying for. There is a long history of such thought, but I think John Stuart Mill may have said it best back in the era of the great struggles for liberty:
“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is worse. […] The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertion of better men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendancy in the affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need is, to do battle for the one against the other.”
And make no mistake, that is precisely what is at stake for the Atlanteans: freedom. Yet, Aquaman, of all men, considers this too small of a stake for which to fight. Now, the text tells us that the Atlanteans don’t stand a chance, so unconditional surrender is the only option, but that is simply not supported in the book. Here is where Friedrich’s literary sin of ‘telling’ really hurts his tale, as the reader can’t help but say, “Really? All of Atlantis and Aquaman can’t do ANYTHING against these random guys who we’ve never heard of before?” It’s a drastically unsatisfying explanation, and it makes the Sea King look more than useless.
Back to our story, the power hungry Nebeur, unsurprisingly, isn’t satisfied with Atlantis, so he plans to conquer the surface world as well, with the help of the gas that the surfacemen themselves created. That’s really all they’ve got going for them. Nonetheless, the usurper king shames Aquaman and pushes him around as he takes control of Atlantis, but fortunately the apparently pathetic hero has allies that are more useful than he is in this story. Batman tells his fellow heroes of his suspicions about the missing gas and the absent Marine Marvel, and they split into teams to investigate. The Dark Knight goes in search of the missing Flash, while Hawkman and Superman go hunting for the chemical weapons and Green Lantern and the Atom try to contact Aquaman.
In a nice bit of detail, the Winged Wonder dons a pressure suit so he can travel into the deep, but the searching duo are attacked by the Pale People near their city. Superman saves a stunned Hawkman and returns to smash the Saremites’ weapons, with a little help from his airborne ally. Having solved part of the mystery, the pair head to Atlantis to meet up with their teammates.
Things are tense in the undersea city, with the Atlanteans feeling justifiably a trifle antsy about the whole ‘unconditional surrender’ thing. Green Lantern and Atom are attacked as they approach by the occupiers, but Hal’s power ring proves up to the challenge and silences the Atlantean artillery. When the heroes are attacked by gas shells (underwater, let’s remember), the Emerald Gladiator manages to bottle up the toxin while the Atom disables the launcher and captures the guard.
Just then the other pair arrive, and the Saremites, in desperation, turn the water pumps of Atlantis into a weapon, which is actually a really clever idea and a great extrapolation of the extant material. They expel all of the water from the domed city in a massive, crushing torrent, and the heroes are blown and battered by the flood, even Superman. Now, that’s a tad problematic, as anything that could take out the Man of Steel would probably kill the others, but I’ll give Friedrich a pass because balancing these power levels has got to be tough.
This is a cool sequence, and it includes a pretty clever idea, but it also reveals a huge problem for the whole ‘Atlantis is helpless against the gas’ angle. The whole city is under a water-tight dome! All the Atlanteans had to do was sit tight, and the Saremite’s weapons would have been completely useless. In a story where Friedrich is clearly thinking through a lot of his choices, this is a pretty glaring oversight. Nonetheless, the action doesn’t end there, as the Emerald Crusader uses his ring to shield the Man of Tomorrow, and the Kryptonian smashes his way into the Atlantean control center and knocks out the invaders manning it. With the pressure released, the heroes storm the city and take out the Saremite troops in a decent, if not spectacular, splash page.
The tyrant, Nebeur, tries to flee when he sees his troops defeated, but Aquaman finally does something useful and decks the would-be conqueror. Finally, the crisis is over, and the heroes begin to celebrate, but the Sea King berates them, noting that a death toll of 43 makes this anything but a bloodless victory, and blames the surfacemen for instigating the tragedy in the first place by being irresponsible with their weapons.
This is an interesting scene, as it tries to deal with the realistic costs of conflict, which are always too high. War is always a tragedy, even when it is a just necessity. While Aquaman is rather unfair to his teammates, the real trouble is that the moment is somewhat undercut by the weaknesses of the story. The tone is rather heavy handed as well, which is no surprise considering who our author is, but that is nothing compared to the overblown narration that follows.
The League return the Saremites, including their dead, to their city, and the desperate, directionless people gasp in wonder as the ‘Proof Rock’ comes back to life when the heroes approach it. They beg the Leaguers to rule them as their gods, but Hawkman steps forward and responds with an honestly intriguing speech. He declares that they have placed their faith in external sources, which have failed them, so they must turn within in their search for meaning, a very existentialist sermon (“existence precedes essence”). The comic ends with a distorted recreation of the Christian rite of the Eucharist, as the Thanagarian hero takes pieces of the ‘Proof Rock’ and administers them to the Pale People, saying “Take and eat of it, for this is the food of life.” Afterwards, back aboard the Satellite, the assembled League are discussing the case when suddenly Batman appears bearing a gravely wounded Flash! That’s quite a note to go out on!
The Hawkman sermon is…well, a slightly sacrilegious ending, but that doesn’t bother me too much since the symbolism is clear and clever (internalizing a once external source of meaning). It’s a really striking, provocative conclusion, and I am impressed that Friedrich is able to deliver it after the uneven story that precedes it. Essentially, Hawkman attempts to give the Saremites a new belief structure to replace that which they lost, which is a pretty huge move on his part. I suppose that the JLA doesn’t subscribe to the Prime Directive! Honestly, the gesture is quite fitting coming from the Winged Wonder, given the type of advanced, science-based culture that the Thanagarians evince, but I find myself a little troubled by it, purely on philosophical/theological grounds.
While I have a deep affection for existentialism, and I think it is a useful response to the weak, unexamined Epicureanism of the modern world, it is an ultimately flawed philosophy unless joined with Christianity, as in Kierkegaard ‘s work. When you remove external sources of objective morality, you’re eventually left with nothing more than enlightened self-interest as an ethics that can be rationally defended. That is a pretty poor ethical standard, and the moral relativism of the modern world reflects the reality of such a stance (even when it masquerades under the guise of adhering to an objective morality).
In terms of Friedrich’s references to Eliot’s “Prufrock,” I can’t decide if they are asinine or brilliant. You see, the poem, like much of Eliot’s work, is about the disillusionment, frustration, and indecision of modern life. The piece is one of the great standards of Modernism, capturing the ennui of the early 20th Century. Given the condition of American culture in 1971, with many people frustrated about the state of things but unable to decide how to get involved or how to create change, it is possible that this is a very insightful framing device…except for the fact that the story doesn’t really capitalize on it, and the supplied line seems to be chosen because of its aquatic theme rather than any interpretative power. The use of the “Proof Rock” in the alien city also confuses the issue.
It’s clearly a reference to ‘ol Prufrock, but its significance in the story seems to have little to do with poem, except insofar as the Pale People are lost and directionless with its destruction, as is ‘Prufrock’ himself. One way or another, this is certainly not the clear and effective literary allusion we saw in the Avengers story from a while back. It feels more like Friedrich showing off, but perhaps I’m being unfair. The unmoored, directionless narrator of Eliot’s poem certainly shares his uncertainty with the Saremites. Nonetheless, a much more effective allusion accompanies Hawkman’s sermon, as Friedrich includes a passage from William Carlos William’s “Spring and All.” The line and the poem at large deal with the perennial regrowth of nature, the power of spring to transform even the ugliest and harshest landscapes, symbolizing the power of life to recover from even the worst shocks. It’s a very fitting reference that adds to the scene. I’m not much for William’s poetry, but this works.
So, what do we make of this very unusual story? It is an ambitious comic, and Friedrich is really striving to create something significant and provocative. He falls short of most of his aims, but we have to give him credit for his aspirations. Yet, in order to get the message he wants across, he wrenches characters and concepts out of shape, turning Aquaman into an appeaser and a z-list alien race into a major threat without proper development. In the Vietnam era, where American forces were literally burning down and defoliating entire jungles in an attempt to pin down the Viet Cong, responsible use of weapons and accountability for them was a pretty pressing issue. (It just so happens that it remains so in a world of robotic drones bringing comfortably distant death from the skies.) Clearly, there is an attempt here to encourage the audience to grapple with this issue, and that is valuable. Despite its glaring problems of structure, characterization, and logic, Friedrich delivers a very memorable and (relatively) thoughtful comic here. Dick Dillin’s art is serviceable as usual. He renders the Pale People pretty well, but there are some awkward panels scattered about. There are a few places where the art doesn’t quite serve the story, but on the whole, he does a good job. In the end, I suppose this issue deserves 3.5 Minutemen, as its flawed efforts raise it slightly above the average, though I’m inclined to be merciless because of what Friedrich does to my favorite hero, Aquaman.
Mister Miracle #2
Writer: Jack Kirby
Penciler: Jack Kirby
Inker: Vince Colletta
Editor: Jack Kirby
After the heaviness of the previous comic, with its ambiguous literary allusions and downer elements, this next issue of Mr. Miracle’s rip-roaring adventures are a breath of fresh air. I’ve been looking forward to reading more of the super escape artist’s escapades, and the King did not disappoint with this one. I’ll save y’all the suspense: it’s a great comic, as are the bulk of this run. Yet, this has what is probably one of the weaker Mr. Miracle covers. Kirby has created a composition that hearkens back to his days at Marvel. Just look at all that cover copy! The central image, our hero facing the flying blades is great, and the peril is palpable, but there’s a lot of wasted space and cluttered text. Still, it is properly exciting, and the story inside lives up to its promise.
It begins the way this series often does, with Scott Free and his assistant Oberon working on a new escape for their show. At the moment, the pair are constructing an android, which the escape artist refers to as a “Follower,” that can mimic his movements. Interestingly, this entire scene is framed with the most Kirby panel dividers that have ever existed. Some unseen foe watches the proceedings and reports to a superior with sinister intent. The trick in the offing involves explosives, and Scott is using his duplicate to help him test it, but then their uninvited guest, a strange looking robot named Overlord, strikes, with devastating results.
Fortunately, the android takes the brunt of the blast, and Oberon comes to his friend’s rescue, fighting the resultant blaze. I’ve given Vinnie Colletta a lot of flak for his rushed and lazy inks on Kirby’s books, but I’ll give him due credit for this sequences, as he does a masterful job capturing the light and shadow of the flame and smoke. Amidst that obscuring smoke, Oberon discovers Scott, unharmed, thanks to the intervention of his Mother Box. The mysterious Mr. Miracle tells his friend that the box was hurt while protecting him, and he must help it heal by pouring “my love–my belief” into it. Okay? The machine remains an enigma.
Meanwhile, our scene changes to focus on a strange old woman surrounded by amazing machines and armored troops. When the soldiers question her about the mysterious machine, Overlord, she throws back her cloak to reveal battle armor and beats them viciously, declaring that the robot is precious to her. She adds that she wants to kill Scott Free and orders her troops to bring him to her. This is our first introduction to Granny Goodness, and it is fantastic. It’s really striking and funny to see this old woman just wail on all these vicious looking warriors, and Kirby draws her as a grotesque, frightening in her ugly rage.
Scott, for his part, is testing another act, recreating the cover image as he is strapped to a board facing a trio of razor-sharp spears, narrowly avoiding their strike. After his escape, Oberon begins to question him about his origins again, and I quite like his line: “Level with me, boy! You’re not from anyplace I ever heard of–are you–?” Their conversation gives us a nice touch of characterization for both of them, though it reveals little more about Scott, other than that he his on the run and arrived via ‘Boom Tube.’ Of course, folks reading the rest of Kirby’s books would recognize that term. After their talk, Granny’s soldiers arrive and, mistaking the android for Mr. Miracle, capture it and Oberon. Scott sees this and, recognizing the attackers, he takes off after them with flying devices called ‘Aero Disks.’ I’ve always loved this element of the character. When I’m walking a long way, I’ll occasionally daydream about having a pair of these myself!
Back at Granny’s base, her troops return with their catch, and you can imagine how well she takes it when she realizes they have been suckered. Just then, Mr. Miracle arrives in grand fashion and snags his assistant. Yet, their escape is short-lived, as Granny triggers a device, and the pair drop into something called….the X-Pit! The Pit involves a clear, glass-like cage bearing a number of buttons, which Mr. Miracle calls “a torment-circuit.” Sounds lovely! Kirby gives us a bit of awkward, fuzzy dialog here, but the heart of the trap is a series of tortures corresponding to each button, including flames, electricity, and choking mud. It’s a great sequence, and Kirby draws the heck out of it. The trap itself is pretty clever, as, each press of a button brings relief from one peril, only to replace it with another. That’s an insidious type of torture, giving you control over your own fate.
As Scott and Oberon face their desperate struggle for survival, Granny celebrates by having ‘Overlord’ brought out of her vault. We discover that the strange device is actually some type of “fabber,” or nano-fabricator, that can create nearly anything out of thin air. Think of the replicators from Star Trek. Of course, Kirby doesn’t describe it in those terms, as the idea was much less common and established in science fiction back in 1971. It does highlight the incredibly advanced technology of the New Gods. I mention all of this, because the King often likes to make such imaginative concepts central elements of his stories, even when they don’t have a major impact on the plot, and such is the case here.
Granny’s enjoyment of Overlord is rudely interrupted as Mr. Miracle makes another dramatic entrance, destroying the device. He explains that he kept trying different settings for the torment-circuit until he found a radiation attack, which he was able to channel into Mother Box to restore her power, and then he use her to send an energy spike into Overlord, who was hooked into everything in the X-Pit, frying him. Essentially thumbing his nose at the vicious old woman, the super-escape-artist takes off, admitting to Oberon that it was difficult for him to stand up to her…but we don’t yet entirely understand why!
This issue is just a blast. It establishes the pattern that most of the Mr. Miracle comics will follow, where we begin with our hero practicing an outlandish escape, have him be challenged by some of Darkseid’s minions and put into some type of fiendish trap, only to live up to his name and thwart their plans by escaping. It could get repetitive, but Kirby is endlessly creative and manages to throw so many strange and wondrous ideas at his readers that the formula doesn’t get boring, if memory serves. This particular story is just a lot of fun, with all kinds of outrageous threats facing our hero, some nice character work, and a really bizarre and memorable villain.
Granny Goodness really is a great addition to Kirby’s growing Fourth World. She’s a reversal of the archetypal motherly/grandmotherly figure, with her deceptive saccharine sweetness and her vicious cruelty. She fits perfectly into Darkseid’s world, and the fact that she is the model of how Apokolips interacts with the innocence and helplessness of childhood speaks volumes. The King’s art is, of course, great throughout, full of energy and bursting with imagination. Other than some clunky dialog and the fact that what exactly is going on with Overlord is left quite fuzzy, the issue has no real flaws, so I’m going to give it a boisterous and exciting 4.5 Minutemen.
P.S.: We have another text piece in this comic, this one about Mr. Miracle himself and Kirby’s prophetic imagination. It’s an interesting read!
The Phantom Stranger #13
“A Child of Death!”
Writer: Robert Kanigher
Penciler: Jim Aparo
Inker: Jim Aparo
Letterer: Jim Aparo
Editor: Joe Orlando
Cover Artist: Neal Adams
“The Devil’s Timepiece”
Writer: Robert Kanigher
Penciler: Tony DeZuniga
Inker: Tony DeZuniga
Editor: Joe Orlando
Brace yourselves, guys. This promising mystery tale takes a really bizarre left turn, with Kanigher pulling a crazy third act reveal. It actually starts out a really strong, promising Twilight Zone-esq tale, but that doesn’t last. Nonetheless, we’ve got a great cover for this one, creepy, mysterious, and intriguing. You’ve just got to pick this issue up and see what’s going on with this weird little kid!
The story inside starts well enough, with a scene straight off of the cover, wherein a scientist working in a remote facility is burning the midnight oil when he is startled by his grandson’s sudden arrival. The child points his toy pistol at the old man, says “Bang! Bang!” and suddenly the gramps crumples to the floor, dead! The narration is a bit heavy-handed, but the scene is pretty chilling, especially given the demonic cast Aparo brings to the boy’s cherubic features.
The next morning, the boy’s mother finds her stricken father dead, seemingly from heart failure, and we observe the fallout from his loss. He was the head of Project Thunderhead, some sort of nuclear weapons undertaking, and the team must choose a new director. There’s a bit of politicking, as an aged German scientist named Heinrich makes a play for the position buts get shot down, starting a plot thread that goes absolutely nowhere. At the slain scientist’s funeral, the Phantom Stranger appears, ruminating that there is a terrible secret in the grave. How mysterious!
A week later, the incident repeats itself, as the new head of the project, Dr. Kurasawa, meets the same fate when he visits the young boy, Freddy. Once more, Freddy points his toy gun and shouts “Bang! Bang!”, and once more, a man dies! The kid then continues to just carry on with his playing, violently, and his unconcern is really quite unnerving.
Meanwhile, Dr. Heinrich, who seems to be losing his mind, ranting about how he should be the director and clutching a pistol, has a dramatic confrontation with the Phantom Stranger that results in a fight. The struggle brings the rest of the crew running, and they think Heinrich is hallucinating because, of course, the Stranger is nowhere to be seen when they arrive. The aged German is sedated, and we get a strange scene where a female scientist named Dr. Clair has an encounter with Freddy but seems immune to his “shots.”
Three nights later, the boy creeps out of his bed once more, this time targeting his own father, the latest head of the project, but the Phantom Stranger intervenes, throwing his cloak over the child and pretending to be a newly arrived scientist. For some reason, the father doesn’t freak out because this strange man has his son wrapped up in his cloak…and also, wears a cloak. We learn that Freddy is adopted and unusually intelligent, and the Spectral Sleuth gives the scientist a clue about the strange deaths, noting that a set of computer banks shorted out when the other scientists were killed and that Freddy was in the room for each death.
Suddenly, the boy runs off into the night, and his father chases after him. Out in the stormy desert, Freddy turns on his adoptive father, and invisible energy flashes from his eyes. Only the Phantom Stranger’s intervening again saves the man’s life. And, this is where things just get weird. “Freddy” begins to explain his origins, claiming that his people were an Adamic race, living in an Edeninc world, free from strife or suffering, living in peace with all.
When the Ice Age came, they were driven underground, and after millennia in a subterranean world, their physiology changed, causing them to cease maturing around 4 years old. The creepy child is actually an adult, a mutant of this society, who developed the ability to kill with a glance. When subterranean nuclear tests began, this underground race was imperiled, and they dispatched their mutated members to infiltrate the various nuclear nations and sabotage their efforts in order to protect themselves. The story is absurd, but Aparo’s art is so lovely I almost want to see him draw a full comic about this craziness. Why didn’t anyone ever put him to work adapting some Edgar Rice Burroughs stories?
But let’s think about this plot for a moment. So…this guy somehow made his way to the surface, somehow ended up in an orphanage where the scientist and his wife just happened to come looking for a child, and somehow just happened to be adopted. It’s…a bit of stretch, even without getting into the gonzo antediluvian child-culture that Kanigher pulled out of left field. Regardless of how silly or strange the setup is, the story doesn’t end there. After his explanation, “Freddy” flees from the recovered Stranger, who meets Dr. Clair in his pursuit, only to have her revealed as Tala! She gives her usual ‘join me and we shall rule the galaxy together’ spiel, but he brushes her off. The Stranger chases his quarry back to the caverns from which he emerged, but the kid…err…guy, runs straight into a nuclear test! Despite the scientist’s protestations that “we don’t mean to kill,” our mysterious hero responds with a weird, heavy-handed ‘ye who are without sin, cast the first stone,’ bit about pollution and such that doesn’t entirely makes sense in context.
This is a weird one, and not in the usual and positive style of macabre mystery that suits the Phantom Stranger. There’s just too much going on here. The bizarre, fun-sized subterranean race is just an odd concept that doesn’t really work, at least without more space to breath, aside from how incongruous the whole thing is with the story actually being told. The slowly unfolding mystery of the kid’s powers is really fairly exciting. It’s just a shame it doesn’t have a better payoff. The whole story just feels messy, with the random, dropped plot thread of the jealous German and Tala’s equally random appearance. I’m also becoming fairly certain that the DC writers had never actually met a human child. The little boy in this story speaks in the same type of bizarre third person pidgin as ‘Superbaby’ from his ridiculous adventure in Action Comics #399, except that this is even worse, because this kid is supposed to be four years old! I don’t think any child has ever actually spoken this way, but by four, I would hope that a kid would be a bit more clear-spoken than this!
Of course, the adventure isn’t all bad, and it is notable for the fact that it contains a fairly decent, if oddly delivered, critique of nuclear proliferation. I was really surprised to see this type of social issue show up here, especially in 1971. I thought it would probably take a bit longer for the nuclear issue to really reach the zeitgeist the way it had when I was a boy. The whole M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction) concept was everywhere in the 80s, so it’s interesting to see it showing up this early, at least in some fashion. The message here is as messy as the yarn that carries it, but it does manage to make its central premise clear. ‘If we have enough bombs to destroy the world, why do we need more?’ Of course, it makes that point in a random aside with a minor character, so take that for what it’s worth. This is certainly an unusual subject for a comic, so that’s worth noting. Unfortunately, on its own merits, there isn’t much to recommend this confused jumble of a story, even with Aparo’s always-lovely art. I’ll give it 2 Minutemen.
“The Devil’s Time-Piece”
Dr. Thirteen continues to hold down the backup slot here, and he gets another solo adventure. I prefer these, on the whole, as using him too often in the Phantom Stranger’s stories just tends to make him annoying and repetitive. On his own, he gets a chance to actually win a few rounds instead of constantly losing to and being embarrassed by his otherworldly opposite number. Kanigher’s short adventures often prove better than his longer efforts in headline-tale, but this one isn’t as clear cut a winner as some. It begins with Dr. Thirteen attending a secret occult auction, apparently just to mock all of the superstitious fools gathered to bid. One of his friends, Bentley, buys an antique clock with a Satanic theme, and the auctioneer offers some cryptic warnings about the object. Oddly, he also says that the clock needs to be wound every hour. What kind of a clock needs winding every hour? That would be maddening!
Nonetheless, upon winding the clock for the first time at home, Thirteen’s friend sees a devilish figure leap out of the artifact and proceeds to plunge its trident into his chest! Later, the good Doctor arrives to find his friend dead. He investigates the scene, and in a nice piece of detective work, he reconstructs the setup, reasoning that Bentley wound the clock before he died. Doing so himself, Terry gets quite a surprise, as the same Satanic figure leaps out of the object and attacks him!
Disoriented, Dr. Thirteen realizes that the clock released some sort of gas, but he still manages to defend himself. Finally, his attacker falls upon his own weapon, dying, and the Doctor puts the pieces together. He realizes that this man was the auctioneer and that his father was sentenced to death on the strength of Bentley’s testimony, so he was out for revenge. The murderer hid in the clock (which seems rather small for that) and rigged it to release a gas when wound. Wearing nose filters, he sprang out and killed his victim…and then, apparently got back in the clock, rather than making his escape…for some reason.
It’s a bit of a stretch, this whole setup. Watching Dr. Thirteen solve the mystery is entertaining, and his fight with the demon-dressed villain is pretty good, but the murderer’s plot is a bit out there. Apparently he posses as an auctioneer when his victim just happens to go to this random occult auction, or he actually is an auctioneer and takes advantage of the very unlikely coincidence of this fellow coming to his secret auction. Either way, it’s a rather elaborate plan. Of course, to a certain extent, you can excuse that because this is a comic story, but Kanigher doesn’t quite manage the great backup pacing he often pulls off. This one is just too rushed, with the fight and the explanation literally happening simultaneously. It must be easy to solve crimes when the criminals scream their confessions at you as soon as they see you. “I DID IT WITH THE CANDLESTICK IN THE LIBRARY! ARREST MEEEEE!” I suppose this is a moderately entertaining read, despite its problems, and the gas-induced devil hallucinations are rather cool, so I’ll give it 3 Minutemen.
With Dr. Thirteen’s capture of the crimson cloaked killer, we reach the end of this post. I found this trio of comics a particularly fascinating read, and I hope that y’all enjoy my commentary! We’ve got rather a lot of awkward social consciousness on display here, though it isn’t as well done as that we saw earlier this month. I’m curious if the rest of the month will hold any more. Thank you for joining me, and please come back soon for another stop along our journey Into the Bronze Age! Until then, keep the Heroic Ideal alive!