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PROWL...
(praul/v. & n. -- v. 1.) roam [a place] in search or as if in search of prey, plunder, etc. 2.) move about, like a hunter. n. -- the act
or an instance of prowling)
.The Life and
Times of Prince Tchalla: the Black Panther
So much, I think, for the character of the Panther as interpreted while on this side of the ocean; there still remains a decent accounting of his numerous exploits in other, more exotic climes. One of the very finest of these took place within the pages of FANTASTIC FOUR #119 (yet another Roy Thomas affair; clearly, the writer harbored no little fondness -- and more than ample regard -- for the King of Wakanda). Equal parts adventure and allegory, the tale concerns itself with two of the FF's membership (the Human Torch and the Thing) attempting to liberate the Panther from his unjust incarceration within the durance vile of a South African nation-state wherein black men are routinely press-ganged and repressed. (This tale, by the way, was penned in the early 1970's; long before, in other words, the era in which the shameful subject of South African racial apartheid had nosed its way underneath the tent flaps of the comics readership's collective consciousness. Another gold star, then, for the good [and far-sighted] Mr. Thomas, re: this venture.)
(Additional Side-Note: in the course of this tale, Tchalla briefly refers
to himself as "the Black Leopard," in an attempt -- as he puts it --
"to divorce myself from those within your own country who use the same name
in order to promote their own political agenda." Without weighing in on
one side or the other, re: that particular can of worms, I can
-- nevertheless -- state, in all candor: I'm everlastingly grateful that
that change in cognomen didn't "stick." The awkward "Black Leopard"
is an unremittingly lousy super-hero name.)
Opening up the ante with an extended story arc which took nearly two years to reach fruition -- the classic (if undeniably flawed) "Panther's Rage" -- McGregor spun an ambitious tale invoolving Tchalla's return to his kingdom and homeland, and the politically-spawned upheaval which was to follow. Said "upheaval"
-- more of a full-fledged insurrectiion, really, when you got right
down to it -- was fought on simultaneous fronts, throughout its duration.
The most colorful (and obvious) of these was between the costumed, prowling
Panther himself and a seemingly inexhaustible array of similarly-inclined
super-villainous catspaws, such as the scarred and insane "Venomm" [see
cover, below].
... and,
finally: there was the private, one-on-one ongoing conflict (of sorts)
between Tchalla and his American born-and-bred paramour, "Monica
Lynne." The two lovers -- and they were undeniably that, if
nothing else, in the course of a relationship which was frequently detailed
as one generating some serious sexual "heat" -- played a sort of
combination Greek chorus and "Point/Counterpoint" to one another's most
deeply-rooted senses of fear, inadequacy and dislocation as the events
of "Panther's Rage" stormed about them, and Tchalla's kingdom seemed destined
for total, ruinous devastation.
As the epochal storyline trudged its way towards the inevitable closure -- with an increasingly battered, scarred and shredded Panther homing his unerring way towards the ultimate author of all his miseries: the somewhat dubiously named "Erik Killmonger" -- the series underwent a dizzying panoply of artists, throughout. Some of these (such as the legendary Gil Kane) were fine; others (Rich Buckler) merely adequate to the task at hand. The longest-tenured
of all these, however, was a young man by the name of "Bill Graham" (no,
no... not that Bill Graham -- !), who -- for all of his multitudionous
storytelling faults (such as, for instance, page compositions which were,
frequently, both labored and needlessly confusing) -- quickly made
the series his own, solely by dint of sheerest rendering prowess alone
[see panel, below].
Page after
cramped and claustrophobic page of JUNGLE ACTION was crammed fit to bursting
with some of the longest-winded and most lugubrious purple-prose packed
captions and word balloons in the history of the comics medium. Never
one to utilize one adjective where twenty would as easily suffice, McGregor
often seemed as intent upon murdering his series' dramatic lead (by crushing
him between warring, elephantine captions) as was Killmonger himself [who
is pictured -- and about time, if you ask me -- in the panel below, in
all his heavily-spiked-spandexed-and- muscled glory].
(Say what you will, re: the Marvel Comics of the 1970's. That
it was a period of truly wretched excess, in some instances -- such as, say,
Jim Starlin's pointless and overblown "cosmic" epics in the pages of CAPTAIN
MARVEL and WARLOCK -- is beyond all logical refutation. But: the
very same lack of consistent editorial oversight, in any meaningful sense, also
meant that superior writers -- such as Steve Englehart, Steve Gerber and [on
rare occasion] Don McGregor -- were able to get away with the eye-popping, jaw-dropping
sort of stuff that you just plain ol' never see anymore, in the standard
Marvel offerings of the present day. Give them that much credit,
at least.)
.... but the chronicling of those tales, surely, takes us well and truly beyond even the most enthusiastic interpretation of the phrase "Silver Age"... and -- thus -- will need to be sketched by some future auctorial hand. The Silver Age AVENGERS
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