Climb Every Mountain

As a mystery and suspense title produced under the confines of the the Comics Code, Charlton’s Tales Of The Mysterious Traveler wasn’t given much leeway to be particularly mysterious or suspenseful.

Fortunately for the shadowy figures behind Charlton Comics – if they even cared all that much – the company still had the services of Steve Ditko, an artist who could transform the tamest of tales into a classic chiller.

The following tale, “Above The Topmost Peak,” is a good example of how Ditko – even in his early prime – could elevate his material. The story itself is fairly simple and even contains a moral about mankind’s ego to satisfy the Big Brother watching over the comics industry. Ditko, however, wrings every last bit of suspense out of each panel.

I’m especially struck by how the Traveler’s expressions vividly illustrate the peaks and valleys of the plot, transforming the omnipotent narrator into an actual character rather than the cackling talking head usually seen in horror comics.

If you’re one of those comic-book fans who feels art is secondary to story (as if the two should really be separated), take a look at “Above The Topmost Peak.”

The following story originally appeared in Tales Of The Mysterious Traveler #5 (Charlton, November 1957). The art is by Steve Ditko.

If you enjoyed this story, there’s plenty more in Blake Bell’s latest volume of The Steve Ditko Archives. It’s well worth picking up.

Blue Beetle Mania

The Blue Beetle’s history extends as far back as Batman’s, a fact that has been obscured by a convoluted publishing history – accompanied by an ever-changing plethora of reboots and other gimmicks – that in all probability inspired the equally checkered past of Michael Chabon’s metafictional Escapist.

Created by Charles Nicholas, Rookie policeman Dan Garret debuted as The Blue Beetle in a crudely written and drawn four-page story that appeared near the back of Mystery Men Comics #1 (Fox Feature Syndicate, August 1939). The character at that point was a straight rip-off of the Green Hornet … which is a good a explanation as you’ll get for Garret’s alliterative codename.

He adopted a variation of the more familiar chain-mail gear in his second appearance and -after a few more visual tweaks –  soon gained enough popularity to earn his own title, a radio show and a syndicated newspaper strip ghosted by Jack Kirby.

To keep up with the ever increasing number of super-powered heroes clogging up the newstands by 1941, the Blue Beetle gained extraordinary abilities thanks to the miracle drug “Vitamin 2x.” Those powers would wax and wane throughout the Golden Age depending upon the needs of the story.

Everything remained status quo until the 12th issue of the Beetle’s own comic, when the Fox imprint seemingly dissolved and the character’s title continued under the auspices of Holyoke. Two issues later, Garret received a teen sidekick.

After 19 issues, Victor Fox regained the rights to the character and erratically published Blue Beetle comics until the ‘50s. During that time, the opportunistic Fox ensured the title reflected the trends of the day.

When “headlight comics” proved to be sure moneymakers, the Beetle found himself shoved off-stage by a succession of femme fatales. (Sparky had long since disappeared, poor kid.)

He also narrated “true crime” stories once Charles Biro’s Crime Does Not Pay started dominating the field.

And frankly, many stories were just plain bizarre.

After the Fox imprint finally gave up the ghost in the mid-‘50s, Charlton acquired the rights to Blue Beetle and printed a few stories that did little to alter the character … aside from changing his name to Dan Garrett.

When the success of Marvel and DC’s Silver Age titles brought super-heroes back into vogue, Charlton called upon writer Joe Gill and artist Tony Tallarico to revamp the Blue Beetle.

To their credit, Gill and Tallarico tried to provide a rationale for the Beetle motif by reintroducing Garret as an archaeologist who finds a mystic scarab. Otherwise, this all-new origin story was essentially Fawcett’s Captain Marvel with Egyptian trappings.

That particular incarnation wasn’t successful, so Garrett was killed off and replaced by this guy …

Sadly, Steve Ditko’s Blue Beetle was no more successful than the previous attempt and faded into comic-book limbo. Eventually, however, DC picked up the rights to the Beetle and other Charlton characters and incorporated them into their universe following the cataclysmic events of the company’s wildly successful Crisis On Infinite Earths mini-series.

The Ted Kord Blue Beetle evolved from that point into the Bwa-ha-ha hero so many modern fans loved … at least until DC decided to make headlines several years later by blowing the poor sod’s head off.

Leading, of course, to yet another new incarnation of the Blue Beetle.

*Phew.* I suppose the one constant throughout the decades of Blue Beetle’s existence has been change, which means we’ll probably see a few more versions of the character before everything is said and done.

In the meantime, however, let’s go back to a simpler time and enjoy the original, Golden Age hero who briefly found enough success to become a multi-media sensation a la Superman and Batman.

From Blue Beetle #1 (Fox Publications, Winter ’39-’40), here’s the “Origin Of The Blue Beetle” as drawn by Will Eisner (!) and the character’s creator, Charles Nicholas.

Hmmm … Dan Garret’s working-class background – replete with snobs and bullies – and desire to avenge his father’s death is somewhat similar to Marvel’s Daredevil. I guess there are only so many ideas under the sun.

The Big Ask

Conventional wisdom holds that Rorschach is better known and more compelling than the character that provided the template for Alan Moore’s uncompromising vigilante: The Question.

I definitely won’t argue the issue of popularity. Rorschach plays a prominent role in one of the most famous and widely acclaimed graphic novels of all time and even made it to the silver screen, albeit in a Watchmen adaptation that failed to set the world on fire.

The Question has appeared on cartoons from time to time, but has nowhere near the same level of recognition among casual comic-book fans.

The issue of which character is more “compelling,” however, is another matter entirely. Rorschach – as is the case with each of Watchmen’s protagonists – is a skillfully drawn archetype that serves as a commentary on and parody of the obsessed vigilante™ trope that has gained so much popularity in recent years.

(A trend spurred in part, ironically enough, by Alan Moore’s Watchmen.)

The Question, on the other hand, has fallen victim to endless “bold new directions” and reboots over the years.  Steve Ditko’s uniquely Objectivist take on the character died as soon as Charlton’s “Action Heroes” disappeared from newsstands in the late ‘60s.

Denny O’Neil remade the Question in the image of his own personal philosophies and ultimately created a character that was as challenging, and idiosyncratic, as Ditko’s version. Sadly, later revamps turned the hero into a conventional comic-book character sans the troublesome political and spiritual philosophies.

After an attempt to turn Vic Sage into an “urban shaman” went up in smoke, DC killed the character off and handed the mantle over to former Gotham City detective Rene Montoya, who was considerably more interesting as a non-powered policewoman than a masked vigilante who secretly bore the Mark Of Cain.

(Don’t ask …)

Following the recent DC reboot, I have no idea who The Question is and what he or she actually represents. Given such uncertainty, however, DC could do worse than turn to Steve Ditko’s original version. A character espousing Objectivist values would certainly be timely and inject a bit of controversy that has nothing to do with overt gore or T&A stereotypes.

Yeah right, like that will happen.

From Blue Beetle #4 (Charlton Comics, December 1967), here’s “Kill Vic Sage.” The plot and art are by Steve Ditko; the script is by Steve Skeates under the pseudonym of “Warren Savin.”

The Thin Blue Line

Our good Internet friend plok recently posted an interesting discussion regarding Steve Ditko and objectivism, the controversial philosophy defined by the equally controversial Ayn Rand as “the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.”

While that particular worldview doesn’t quite with my own, I must admit a certain fascination toward Rand’s work because of the strong influence it plays on the work of Ditko, an artist and storyteller I greatly admire.

Traditional readings of Ditko’s work tend to laud his collaborations with Stan Lee on Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, nod appreciatively toward the artist’s super-hero, science-fiction and horror creations for Charlton and – if the commentator in question is feeling particular expansive – demonstrate some enthusiasm for such DC oddities as Hawk & Dove and Shade The Changing Man.

Yet Ditko’s beliefs, which were savagely parodied in such seminal comics publications as witzend, are just as much part of his art and legacy as any Big Two comic. The artist’s unshakable conviction as to what constitutes right and wrong and refusal to compromise his personal vision of “man as a heroic being” form the core of his most lauded stories.

If the rumors are true, Ditko envisioned Amazing Spider-Man #33 as the moment when Peter Parker literally broke the shackles of his neurosis and confusion to fulfill his heroic destiny. Some of theorized that Stan Lee’s reluctance to move the character in such a direction contributed to Ditko’s exit from Marvel and subsequent refusal to ever work on Spider-Man or Doctor Strange again.

Ditko’s beliefs truly came to the fore once he left Marvel. While The Question – an Objectivist gumshoe whose mask erased all facial features –  is usually cited as one of his more potent mixes of super-heroics and philosophy, the artist’s mid-60s revamp of The Blue Beetle was every bit as much a mouthpiece for his creator as The Question and the even more extreme Mr. A.

In fact, I’d wager that fans of the bwa-ha-ha super-buddy Blue Beetle would scarsely recognize  Ditko’s original – and far more idiosyncratic – conception of Ted Kord.

From Blue Beetle #5 (Charlton, November 1968), here’s “The Destroyer Of Heroes.” The plot and art are by Ditko with scripting by DC Glanzman and lettering by the ubiquitous “A. Machine.”

P.S. The story also features a certain investigative journalist named Vic Sage. You may have heard of the guy …

Crazy Horses

Here’s a Pre-Code crime story drawn by Steve Ditko when the great illustrator was still a bit wet behind the ears.

Although Ditko’s storytelling skills remain a rough in spots, it’s more than evident that the artist knew how to effectively establish a mood right from the get-go.

The characters’ facial expressions – distorted yet still realistic – also enhance the script greatly.

From Racket Squad In Action #11, Charlton Comics (May-June, 1954), here’s “Botticelli of the Bangtails.”

FYI: This story, and many other great offerings from Ditko’s Golden Age tenure with Charlton, is available in more pristine condition in Strange Suspense: The Steve Ditko Archives Vol.1, edited by Blake Bell and published by Fantagraphics.

The ?

The Question by Steve Ditko.

From Mysterious Suspense #1

Charlton Comics (1968)

Rubberband Man

The 13 Days Of Halloween continue with a Pre-Code horror classic from one of the genre’s masters: Steve Ditko!

Although Ditko is better remembered for his sizable contribution to super-hero comics (Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, The Creeper, Blue Beetle et. al.), he also lent his talents to horror and science-fiction titles published by such diverse companies as Warren, Charlton and – of course – Marvel.

Given that the reclusive artist regularly drew these sorts of stories for a good 30 years (1950s-1980s), it’s arguable that Ditko’s contributions to mystery and suspense titles may even dwarf the number of pages he dedicated to crime fighters in long underwear.

Tonight’s tale of a plastic man gone wrong originally appeared in Fantastic Fears #5 (Ajax-Farrell, 1954). It’s merely one of many stories that illustrate how Ditko can turn the most outlandish concept into a legitimate chiller.

“Stretching Things” was written by Bruce Hamilton and drawn, of course, by Steve Ditko.

Amazing Slayer-Girl

Thanks to my Virtual Friends™ I recently learned of Geoff Klock’s Remarkable blog, an interesting pop/geek-culture site hosted by the author of How To Read Superhero Comics And Why.

What I find interesting about the site, other than the subject matter of course, is the wide range of guest writers Klock recruits to write about such myriad topics as Chris Claremont’s X-Men, Twin Peaks, Harold And The Purple Crayon and even the finale to Will & Grace.

(Natch, there’s plenty of Grant Morrison references as well. This is the Internet, you know!)

Taken as a whole, the blog makes for interesting and varied reading. While I strongly disagree with some (actually many) of the writers’ assertions, I admire Klock’s crew for providing ample food for thought.

Which brings me to today’s topic: Season One of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

Reading through a generally positive review of the beloved series’ fourth season (not my personal favorite, but there were some great moments …), I was more than a bit surprised to see several commentators refer to Buffy‘s first year as the worst of the lot.

I can understand their position; the characters were fairly simplistic and there weren’t any epic musicals or creepy, silent demons in those early episodes. To be quite frank, though, the first season is just about the only era of Buffy I find palatable these days.

I watched the series faithfully for seven years and even felt a bit of remorse when Ms. Summers and the Scooby Gang signed off forever, but as the years passed I found many of the episodes haven’t worn all that well over time. Much like Claremont’s X-Men circa “The Siege Perilous,” the characters grew too dark and the plot lines too labyrinthian to appeal to those outside of creator Joss Whedon’s devoted fan base.

The character of Buffy, in particular, was so full of angst, anger and misplaced arrogance by the seventh season that it’s surprising anyone found her remotely likable let alone relatable.

It wasn’t always that way, however.

Although Whedon has stated more than once that Buffy’s character was strongly influenced by Kitty Pryde – both were conceived as average girls coping with extraordinary circumstances – the Slayer’s portrayal from the first season is more reminiscent of another Marvel Comics icon: Peter Parker.

Specifically, Peter Parker as conceived by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko.

You’ll never hear this from Joe Quesada, but Mr. Parker wasn’t always a free-swinging bachelor who broke supermodels’ hearts and struck deals with Mephisto. Back in the Lee/Ditko era, Peter was a social outcast who found his “great power and responsibility” a burden that brought him little satisfaction.

Sound familiar, Buffy fans? Remember when our heroine longed for her days as a popular cheerleader? The reluctant sacrifices made in the name of duty?

Like Peter, Buffy always did the right thing … but there was a personal cost. She was misunderstood by her mother, tormented by the school’s principal and scorned by the omnipresent clique of “Mean Girls,” yet the Slayer persisted because – and there’s no other way to put it – with great power comes great responsibility.

We’ve all felt like misunderstood misfits at one point or another. Yet, just like our fictional heroes hoped, there is always the possibility that acceptance can be achieved with enough persistence.

Coupled with Whedon’s ever-present theme of “high school as horror show,” the first season of Buffy had enough conceptual kick to stand out from a television landscape that … well … had never really seen anything quite like the show before.

(Perhaps the multitude of kick-@ss women who’ve invaded our screens since Buffy and, yes, Xena were introduced has made viewers forget just how novel the characters seemed at the time.*)

Of course, we can’t stay in high school forever. Peter received a make-over from John Romita and found himself the object of two beautiful women’s affections. Not bad for a self-described loser, but the lovable schlub routine never quite rang as true again.

Similarly, Buffy’s angst grew as the seasons progressed to the point where it became easier to root for reformed rogue Faith instead of the show’s supposed heroine. In the final season, the adult Buffy wept over a photo of her high school days, a reminder to this viewer at least of what had been lost over the years.

Those early adventures definitely represented simpler times, but perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to toss those episodes into the dustbin. The crushing weight of adult cynicism and self-absorption can’t be so all-encompassing that we’ve lost the capacity to appreciate the eternal hope of youth.

* No, I haven’t forgotten such proto kick-butt characters as Mrs. Peel, Wonder Woman and Leela from old-school Doctor Who, but such strong women were very few and far between.