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The ARCHIE Comics "Mighty Crusaders" Super-Hero Characters of the 1960's: Part One

(This article is dedicated, with thanks eternal, to the incredibly generous Nick Caputo: a mightier crusader than any li'l plush curmudgeon could possibly hope for... or deserve.)

Oh, good golly.

Back in the earlier half of the 1960s -- with DC Comics' incredible Silver Age revival in full creative ascendancy, and Marvel Comics' Jack Kirby busily redefining the storytelling parameters of the adventure comics genre his own bad self, to boot -- the ARCHIE comics group decided to bunny hop its way into the (then-)ongoing super-hero sales conga line.

In the 30s and 40s, you see -- the Golden Age of comics -- Archie Comics had spawned their own stable of spandexed super-doers, under the separate MLJ Comics imprint. PEP COMICS (The Comet; The Hangman; The Shield); JACKPOT COMICS (Mr. Justice; Steel Sterling); TOP-NOTCH COMICS (The Firefly; The Black Hood); BLUE RIBBON COMICS (Bob Phantom; Inferno, the Flame Breather); ZIP COMICS (Blackjack; The Web); and the good lord only knows how many other similarly short-lived and obscurity-enshrouded entries.

These were -- by and large, believe you me -- singularly lame and awful in every known storytelling particular.

However: they were handy and convenient, blessed as they were with the twin virtues of being both: a.) already created, and: b.) owned lock, stock and spandex, outright, by You-Know-Who; and -- to the good (if, ultimately, clueless) men and women charged with the care and feeding of the profitable Riverdale cash cow -- one costumed ding-dong was pretty much the same as any other, really.

However: none of said men and women -- as undeniably talented as they were in the entertaining explication of small town teen dating angst, and suchlike -- had so much as Clue One, re: "How To Write a Genuinely Marketable Super-Hero Comic Book." And (give them credit for that much self-awareness, at least) they darned well knew that.

So: they went out and secured the auctorial services of the gentleman who'd only started the whole "super-hero" shebang rolling in the first place, is all.

They went out and hired Jerry (SUPERMAN) Siegel to write the blamed things.

Oh, how stone brilliant that must have seemed, on paper!

The estimable (and much mistreated, by former employer DC Comics) Mr. Siegel, you see, was -- somewhat understandably, by this juncture in his justly storied career -- more than a little embittered over this whole "super-hero" business, quite frankly. He had -- along with fellow artist (and SUPERMAN co-creator) Joe Shuster -- been embroiled in a series of increasingly apocalyptic and unforgiving lawsuits with DC, over the decade or so prior, re: the fair and equitable distribution of monies generated by the obscenely successful SUPERMAN franchise and its attendant multi-media merchandising. So: that's one, right there.

He also had some extremely... ummmmm... antiquated notions as to how to tell a comics story, in an age where rigorous plotting and scientific extrapolation (the John Broome and Gardner Fox DC titles) was the storytelling "norm," on the one hand; and high-energy emotional breast-beating and bombast (the Jack Kirby-driven Marvel comics) were the order of the day on the other one. So: that's two, then.

... and: he was stuck (by editorial decree) with using some of the most dire and awful "super-heroes" ever conceived of by the mind of Man as his meta-fictive catspaws, in any event. And that's strike three, right there.

Not even Mark McGwire can belt out a homer with three strikes already on him, for pity's sake.

"The Fly-Man's Partners In Peril" [ADVENTURES OF THE FLY #31; May, 1965; Jerry Siegel, writer; Paul Reinman, the (apparent) artist] is as good an example as any of what I'm talking about, here.

The story opens with a scene of "Fly-Man's" portly arch-nemesis -- the cut-rate Lex Luthor knock-off better known as the Spider -- engineering one of his (putatively) "super-scientific" escapes from the state penitentiary; this time, by means of a prison delivery truck specially equipped (by his henchmen, on the outside) with big, dopey-looking super-springy hydraulic leg-thingies.

"Meanwhile," the following caption blandly observes; "... in the Capital City office of attorney Thomas Troy..."

[Quick Origin Recap, courtesy of Jeff Rovin's THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SUPERHEROES (and with additional commentary courtesy of Your Ever-Helpful Unca Cheeks):

["Tommy Troy lives in the Westwood Orphanage, whose superintendent, Aaron Creacher, hires him out to raise money." (Yeah... hires him out to sailors. Really nasty sailors. On "shore leave.")

["Working for elderly Ezra and Abagail March, young Tommy learns that they are wizards and, late one night, tries on a fly-shaped ring he finds in the attic. It glows and opens a door to another dimension, from which steps Turan of the Fly People.

He (Turan) explains that 'millions of years before, Fly People ruled the earth'; but they 'waged war with magic, reducing most of the population to common houseflies'." (... which certainly had everybody buzzing for weeks afterwards...)

["Only a few of the Fly People were able to escape, fleeing to 'a dimensional plane outside the galaxy' where they have waited patiently for 'one person... pure of heart' to 'make war against greed and crime,' which were their own downfall." (Well... that, and the inherited racial tendency towards congenital imbecility, anyway... )

["Troy has these qualities; thus, whenever he rubs the ring and says 'I wish to become... the Fly-Man," he is 'projected into the other dimension,' and returns as a costumed adult called 'the Fly-Man.' Tommy continued as the Fly-Man throughout adulthood, cleaning up crime in Capital City."

[No. Seriously. Page 117. Swear to Jesus.]

After a brief, desultory introductory skirmish with the wildly cackling Spider (whose super-villain costume is -- unfortunately; given the ampleness of his physique -- distressingly skin-tight), Fly-Man is startled, several days later, by the arrival of a flying "remote-controlled, jet- powered gigantic metal claw" whizzing its way over the skies of New York City, during its World's Fair. [See panel reproduction, below]

"The Spider's emblem is emblazoned upon the deadly mechanism!" a grim Fly-Man observes. "He probably wants to hog the whole fair to himself!"

(The mental image that line of dialogue conjures up -- that of an aging, obese super-villain, capering giddily amongst the twilight shadows of abandoned roller coasters and ring-toss game booths and giggling like a schoolgirl -- is, as much as anything, the real reason I first took up the nervous habit of cramming little baby birdies, head first, into electric pencil sharpeners. And laughing.)

In any event: the (inevitable) death-trap accompanying said gigantic metal claw -- a massive "electrical discharge," in this particular instance -- is thwarted, right in the very nick, by the sudden arrival of the mysterious (and, from all available evidence, massively color-blind) Comet.

[From Rovin's ENCYCLOPEDIA: "In the early 1940s, while working at his research lab in Manhattan, chemist John Dickering discovers a gas that is 'fifty times lighter than hydrogen.' Injecting it into his bloodstream, he finds that he can 'make great leaps' through the air." (The flaming, concussive bouts of hellish flatulence accompanying said super-powered display were a nice artistic "touch," as well.)

["Jekyll-like, he continues experimenting on himself until, after many injections, the gas accumulates in his eyes and causes them to throw off 'two powerful beams.' When they cross, whatever he's looking at will 'disintegrate completely. Dubbing the power 'dissolvo-vision,' he finds that the only problem is that he can't control it except by closing his eyes." (Appparently, the simple expedient of not crossing his freakin' eyes in the FIRST bloody place never occurs to Mr. Big Deal, Filled-With- More-Gas-Than-a-Propane-Tanker Super-Scientist, here. I'm just sayin', here, is all.)

["Fortunately, Dickering's vision can't harm glass, so he makes a pair of goggles which he raises to release his blasts. Inspired by the exploits of other costumed heroes, he becomes a crime-fighter, albeit an unorthodox one: he is one of the few who --" (Pick One):

A.) " -- kills his adversaries."

B.) " -- touches himself in combat, while making lewd and suggestive comments to his adversaries."

C.) " -- subdues his opponents by shrieking the lyrics to old Dexy's Midnight Runners tunes at the top of his lungs."

D.) " -- can transform himself, at will, into WEBSTER television star Emmanuel Lewis."

E.) " -- 'grooms' himself with his own tongue. All over."

["Though girlfriend reporter Thelma Gordon writes him up as a hero, his thirst for blood makes the public uneasy. Not so the aliens of the planet Altrox who, after studying his exploits on Earth, teleport him to their world to help Queen Naija wage war against invading robots." (You're all still following all of this, right...?)

["Barely surviving that encounter, the Comet is returned to Earth -- where he is promptly shot dead by friends of gangster 'Big Boy' Malone, whose gang he had previously busted. Witnessing the tragedy, Queen Naija brings him back to Altrox, reviving and then marrying him." (This may very well be the first confirmed instance of a comic book origin having been penned by renowned absurdist playwright Eugene Ionesco.)

["But bad luck continues to hound Dickering: less than a week later, robot survivors of the Battle of Annexia ambush the newlyweds. By this time, the Altroxian atmosphere has deprived him of his dissolvo-vision -- something the Comet doesn't learn until he tries to use it against the assassins. The Queen is killed, 'her skull crushed like a rotten bloodfruit.' Creating a super-powered costume using Altroxian science, Dickering returns to Earth [...] and resumes his superheroic career." (This was all in PEP COMICS #1, incidentally, circa 1940. And just try imagining the eight- or ten-year-old kid of the period slogging his unhappy way through all of that in one pre-adolescent sitting.)]

Well: back to the meta-fictive changeling left here in place of an actual plot, then. Having rescued the hapless Fly-Man from the Spider's electronic snare, the Comet assures his inectoid pal that "Now that I've resigned as ruler of Altrox, Earth will be seeing more of me! I'm glad I was able to help you! And now, goodbye, 'til we meet again!"

"Bah!" a sullen Spider fumes, viewing all of this nonsense from afar. "Why didn't that nosey super-hero from Altrox stick around his own business, where he belongs?!? The Fly-Man survived my trap! But he won't survive the next one!"

Pretty tough talk, from a Jenny Craig refugee with a lace doiley on top of his head...

... but: a day or two later, "at a party given at the Van Pyle mansion," a trio of toughies named (Jesus whack me with a stick if I lie) Boppo the Mighty; Flipsy the Terrific; and Basher the Dynamic crash their way into the foppish festivities, and proceed to separate the revelers from their wallets, watches, and whatnot.

"Must telepathically tip- off my noble friend, the Fly-Man, about these sinister happenings!" a nearby (and typically altruistic) insect resolves, in the happy woodland way of all small, crawling vermin.

(DC should have ponied up the damn dollars for Jerry Siegel. I mean it. Whatever he bloody asked for; if only to spare The Man Who Started It All the ultimate, soul-deadening indignity of having to crank out stuff like this, in the twilight of his years, f'chrissakes. And I really am Just Sayin', here.)

Fly-Man sneaks his way into the low rent hideout of Boppo, Flipsy and Basher, grimly resolved to give the trio a right good slapping around for Being Dorky Enough To Make Even the Comet Look Like a Darned Good Idea, By Way of Comparison. Unfortunately, his (*kaff*kaff*) fabulous assortment of insectoid powers wears off at an inoppportune moment -- oh, yeah; I should have mentioned thhat Fly-Man "can be super-powerful for only one hour out of each twenty-four hour span"; cheapjack magic alien rings being what they are, apparently -- and he kerPLOPS humiliatingly directly in front of The Cretins Three, as a result.

Sans the ability to hold long, rambling conversations with crab lice and the like, Fly-Man is roughly as menacing as a blind kitten in a microwave; as Boppo and His Pals effectively demonstrate, in what simply must be one of the most embarrassing ass-whuppings in all of recorded comics history.

"They call me 'Boppo'," the first gunsel explains; "... 'cause when I bop 'em, they stay bopped!"

" 'Flipsy' is the name!" the second assailant warbles. "For flipping, I am famed!"

"My momma wanted I should become a great pianist!" the third one confesses, in a truly touching moment of emotional vulnerability. "I figured out another use for my hands!"

Having thus spanked the (now) unconscious Fly-Man like the proverbial red-headed stepchild, the Spider's three mesomorphic hirelings -- for such they are, in plain point of fact -- unceremoniously deposit the internally hemorrhaging insect-guy on a nearby elevated train trestle; rustle themselves up some popcorn and orange sodas; and settle back to watch what promises to be (with said train, even now, fast approaching) a truly impressive display of Really Icky Carnage...

... when -- all of a sudden, like; just imagine the odds! -- a red, white and blue armored figure comes thundering from out of absolutely nowhere; scoops up Fly-Man in two muscular arms; and whisks the still-stupored super-hero out of harm's onrushing way.

"The b-bullets are bouncing off his emblem!" one of the trio stammers, as they attempt to gun down the silent Samaritan. (It's a little-known fact that Siegel was slipped an extra buck by a certain fetishistic ARCHIE editor, each and every time he manaaged to work the word "emblem" into one of his scripts.)

"That's... the Shield!" one of his partners exposits, helpfully. "He's able magnetically to attract bullets so they glance harmlessly off his bullet-proof shield emblem!" (See what I mean? Ka-ching!)

"I'd have been a goner if not for you, Shield," a grateful Fly-Man enthuses. "Where have you been all these years? What made you quite crime fighting?"

"I'd... rather not talk about that... now!" the Shield mutters, by way of response. "Maybe some other day..."

(Yeah, yeah; this guy's got an origin every last bit as lame-brained and awful as either of the other two we've seen thus far. Your Drama- Conscious Unca Cheeks is just holding that little laugh riot aside for a later chapter in this here entry, is all. You'll all need to see the actual, for real, no foolin' pages for yourselves to fully appreciate The Origin of... THE SHIELD for the rank and festering horror it truly is. Trust me on this one, people.)

Just as in the earlier instance, re: the mysteriously reappearing Comet... the Shield promptly scampers off, after having hauled Fly-Man's buggy butt out of the fire; leaving the latter hero even more befuddled than usual as to just what the holy heck is going on around here, anyway; and the spluttering Spider with a batting average of .000, kill-wise.

Part Two of "The Fly-Man's Partner's In Peril," coming right up... on the page immediately following.

Everybody go ahead and rub their "magic fly rings." Or whatever.

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE TWO

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE THREE

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE FOUR

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE FIVE
The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE SIX

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