Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
The (KINDA)(SORTA)Super-Heroic
Legacy of Ralph Dibny: THE
ELONGATED MAN
[ Part Three ]
Okay. So:
It's one thing, winning the trust and/or admiration of a perennially grinning congenital "nice guy" the likes of, say, Barry [FLASH] Allen.
It's a whole 'nother one, scoring in the spandexed gut-check competition
with the big, bad bat. 
"The Secret War of the Phantom General" [DETECTIVE COMICS #343; September, 1965; John Broome, author; Carmine Infantino, artist] opens up with the the "New Look" Silver Age Batman and Robin vroom-
vrooming their merry masked way in the general direction of Gotham City Police Commissioner James Gordon.
"... and Commissioner Gordon didn't say what our friend Ralph Dibny, the Elongated Man, wants to see us about, Batman?" a curious Teen Wonder plaintively inquires of his masked mentor.
"No, Robin," the Darknight Detective replies. "Over the Hot- Line, Gordon told me only that Ralph was impatiently waiting for us at the New Gotham Hotel... where he and his wife Sue always stay during their visits here!"
(... and that's something that always puzzled the holy heck out of
your painstakingly rational Unca Cheeks, now that he mentions it: that
whole "Hot-Line" business, as popularized in the public sentiment by the live-action
BATMAN television show of the same era. Why does Commissioner Gordon need
both a "Hot-Line" and a "Bat-Signal" in order to reach everybody's favorite
Caped Crusader? And how in the name of Alexander Graham Bell -- several
decades before the advent of the cellular phone, mind -- did they ever
manage to establish a working phone line between police headquarters and a spot
directly underneath " 'Stately' Wayne Manor" without immediately
and irrevocably queering the Dark Knight's whole "secret identity" shtick
in the first place? I mean: somebody had to lay down
some serious, serious phone cable between the two points, at some point
along the telecommunication way... si? And -- bloody hell -- couldn't
any half-bright Gotham telephone operator trace the location of said
line, under those circumstances? I mean... geez-o-pete -- !)
Well... in any event: several dozen gunsels and assorted hardcases are robbing the Gotham City Train Terminal; whilst in continual walkie-
talkie communication with a mysterious and unseen individual referenced only as "The General."
Pinned down under a withering fusillade of machine gun fire immediately upon their arrival , Batman and Robin nonetheless recover quickly; barreling into their opponents with the sort of practiced athleticism and intelligent derring-do long their established four-color trademark.
Even so, however: the Dynamic Duo are startled by the sheer and meticulous brilliance with which each of their combative strategies is met, re: the genius-inspired gangsters. A pre-arranged "getaway" smokescreen is activated, precisely on cue; their escape route has not only been plotted out in advance, but padlocked versus pursuit; and even on-site medical support for any/all of their fallen comrades (!!).
Fuming post the sting of allowing the gunsels in question to effect an uncharacteristic (in Gotham City, anyway) getaway, the Batman rasps:
" [...] the crooks operated like a well-trained army...! They used military tactics... covered their rear with a machine gun... even had stretcher-bearers to carry off their wounded!"
Later on, that same evening -- while visiting with the vacationing Ralph [Elongated Man] Dibny, at the New Gotham Hotel -- the Darknight Detective and the Boy Wonder repeat said assessment in front of the Stretchable Sleuth; who responds, in turn, with a cool and insightful: "A... A what?!?"
"What's the matter, Ralph?" a solicitous Batman inquires of his costumed comrade. "What's wrong -- ?"
... and, at this point: John Broome makes A Very Special Guest Appearance.
No. Seriously. John freakin' BROOME.
"As the writer of this story," the (quite frankly)
preternaturally gaunt and spooky-seeming Broome solemnly intones; "... I must
warn you, reader, that you're in for a startling surprise!"
(What... you mean more "startling" than the unexpected [and unsettling] sight
of this guy's mug, staring back at us from the pages of DETECTIVE COMICS
magazine? Sweet Jesus have mercy.)
Where the following panels rank, comparatively, on the ol' Startle-O-
Meter is (of course) a matter of personal preference and inner resolve; but our Shocking Revelation Du Jour, in this instance, is the sudden appearance, stage right, of one pudgy, balding and monocled Otto Preminger lookalike by the name of "General Von Dort, formerly of the Afrika Korps -- at your service!"
"I fought in Africa in World War Two!" a startled underworld denizen blurts, upon the military maladroit's gliding onto the flashbacked scene. "Von Dort almost beat us! But he's dead -- he was with Hitler in that fatal Berlin bunker!"
"So you were led to believe," the Nazi No-Goodnik simpers, pleased to have been spared the inconvenience of trotting out his resume himself. "But, as you see, I am very much alive! I have given up conventional warfare to become a General of Crime! And you men of the underworld shall become my army! My military-slanted crimes will make us all rich!"
"Sounds great, General," one of the henchmen-to-be agreeably... ummmm... agrees; "... but let me ask you something... how do you know one of us won't turn informant, and give you away to the authorities?"
"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!!" Herr General quips back with sweet equanimity, playfully treating the glassy-eye gunsel to a little impromptu mental "WWF Smackdown!"-type action.
"He's right!" the rabbity recidivist stammers inwardly, eyes wide and unblinking. "I... I wouldn't dare!"
"Now with that flashback out of the way," the Spectre morosely informs us; "... we can return to the present"; where --
... oopsie.
"Now with that flashback out of the way," author J-O-H-N B-R-O-O-M-E morosely informs us; "... we can return to the present"; where a nattily-attired Ralph Dibny is regaling Gotham's Guardians with a little backstory of his own.
"... and Sue and I just returned from a tour of South America," the Ductile Detective informs them, idly playing with the cunningly carved "Larry, the Anatomically Correct Llama" figurine he'd manage to smuggle through Customs. "While there, I came across a fantastic rumor! The natives there speak about [Pick One] -- ":
A.) "... a nest of ex-Nazis, fugitives from World War Two, and led by the brilliant but evil General Von Dort!"
B.) "... a nest of ex-Nazis, fugitives from World War Two, and led by a godless cabal of lame, washed-up '70s and '80s pop stars! We're talkin' Barry Manilow, here! We're talkin' Lionel Richie! We're maybe even talkin' --" [visibly repressing a shudder] " -- Kenny Loggins, for the luvva Allah! KENNY FREAKIN' LOGGINS, maaaaaaannnnn -- !"
C.) "... a nest of rich, psychopathic, sexually deranged expatriate Americans, who all enjoy taking limber, willowy adolescent boys; tarting them up in cute li'l domino masks and capes; and forcing them to perform carnal atrocities of the most foul and degenerate sort! Oh... 'Angel,' 'Stefan' and 'Blaine' all asked me to say 'kiss-kiss,' incidentally."
D.) "... well... God alone knows what, actually. Almost
makes me wish I'd actually bothered to learn that silly, make-believe language
of theirs, in retrospect. [chuckling good-naturedly]
Hey! Check out what the llama does, when you lift his tail
up -- !"
"Quickly" (the following caption breathlessly provides); "... plans are laid, and a course of action agreed upon..."
" [...] you'll continue your spadework as the Elongated Man," the Batman
informs The Tourist-y Tyro; "... trying to learn all you can about Von Dort!
While Robin and I will try to pick up his trail in the underworld!"
(One really does hope -- possibly in vain, with the nightmarish visage
of John Broome still green and hideous in memory -- that said "underworld"
has little or nothing to do with the stench of burning sulphur, or the shrill,
piteous shriekings of the dead and the damned.)
"Two evenings later" -- because, hell; what's the hurry, right? -- as a worried pair of crime-fighters cruises through the metropolis," a grim Batman shares his darkest suspicions with a wide-eyed and worshipful Boy Wonder; to wit: " [...] that, sooner or later, another military-style crime is going to hit the city!"
(It's a sweet, cushy gig; this whole "World's Greatest Detective" business.
Once you've established that all-important "rep" for yourself... you can just...
y'know... coast.)
"Of course," he continues; "... we can't always expect to be Johnny- on-the-spot when it happens! But... if we could get there in time to take some prisoners... question them... "
Your Cheap'N'Nasty Unca Cheeks would have been willing to pay top dollar and then some to find out what sort of "questioning," precisely, awaits one of the Batman's squirming and helpless "prisoners" (for some reason, the mental image of a sweating and leering Bruce Wayne -- nekkid, except for six-inch stiletto heels and a hot pink feathered boa; undulating clumsily to the phonographic strains of Maurice Chevalier's "Thank Heaven For Little Girls" -- persists and persists)...
... but: another military-style crime hits the city.
"A mammoth auction of famous art works and antiques is being held [at Gotham Park] tonight," the Caped Crusader announces, whilst tracking the trajectory of a passel o' gun-toting parachutists in the distance. "That auction could be the target selected by the General for his latest military caper... with those parachutists spearheading the surprise attack!"
The proverbial "element of surprise" must be more common than driveway gravel, then, within the paneled borders of the DCU; because said "surprise attack" includes such stealthy, ninja-like strategies as " [...] blowing up the road... trying to seal off the area of their crime!"
Such concussive cunning, however, scarcely even slows the Dynamic Duo; and -- moments later -- the pair is once again sending their respective foemen scattering like so many tommygun-toting tenpins, as explicated with penciler Carmine Infantino's typical lyricism and intelligence.
This time out, the end-result of such frenzied fisticuffs is a nice, fat chalk mark on the good guys' side of the ledger: the fascistic felons are convincingly routed, and the aforementioned "famous art works and antiques" remain unmolested.
"At that moment, however," we are informed (via whispered auctorial aside); "... in a laboratory in Gotham City," Herr General (aided and abetted by his trusted second-in-command, Heinrich) is looting a massive vault of an ominous-looking canister of something-or-another.
"Now we can relax, Heinrich!" the General mirthlessly chuckles; crading said canister to his portly and aging bosom. "We have what we came to get... and, in a few days, the entire world will be at the mercy of General Von Dort!"
"Nothing can stop you, My General!" Heinrich simpers; still working his oily way towards that much-coveted "Sucking Up" merit badge. "Nothing!"
So saying, the Teutonic Twosome hie themselves aboard the very next flight headed in the general overall direction of South America; there to turn their twisted, gnarled hands towards doing Satan's black and ruinous work. Or whatever.
Two days after that (nobody -- but no-damned-body -- rushes the Batman, by golly!): the Darknight Detective; his teen protege; and Ralph "Busily-Redefining-the-Concept-of-Complete-and-Total-Uselessness" Dibny are busily swapping notions and notes, re: Crime-Fighting Dos and Don'ts.
"I'm sorry I didn't get to fight by your side in that second military caper,
Batman," the Elongated Man apologizes. "But from all I've heard,
you two did all right without me!" (Oh. Gee. Thanks,
Mister PlayDough Pal, Sir. Anything to merit your approval.
You darn betcha.)
"Listen," the Conceited Contortionist continues. "I had asked an old buddy of mine who was in the O.S.S. to check up on General Von Dort's background! He found that just before Germany surrendered, Von Dort was in charge of a highly secret project... to develop a death ray!"
"My O.S.S. pal says that the Nazi plans were very advanced," Ralph continues; "... but apparently, they lacked a vital radioactive metal isotope called M-244 to complete their fantastic weapon!"
" [...] and at the very hour when the 'military caper' took place at the charity auction in Gotham Park," a grim-visaged Batman concludes; "... someone broke into a top-security labratory, here in Gotham City, and got away with a full canister of M-244! That thief must have been Von Dort! And it means those army-style criminal forays he mounted were only a cover-up!"
Obviously, such a gargantuan and indigestible chunk of Plot Exposition can
only mean one thing, ultimately: SUPER-HERO ROAD TRIP!
(Woooooo -- !!)
Utilizing a handy (swear to Jesus) "nuclear detection device" of the Caped Crusader's own invention, the true-hearted trio all clamber aboard the former's ubiquitous "Bat-Plane"; and -- before you can say "The Boys From Brazil" -- quickly track down the heretofore hidden location of Von Dort's super-secret Nazi bunker, "hidden high in the Andes Mountains."
Espying a purple-garbed sentry nearby, drawing a bead
on the arriving altruists with his Daisy air rifle, the Elongated Man moves
swiftly to counter-attack by means of his least vulnerable appendage.
(Maybe even his least valuable one, if long-suffering wife Sue Dibny's
notorious tell-all memoir -- He Made Me Feel Like the Lincoln Tunnel,
ALLLLLLL Night Long -- is to be believed.)
(... and, say: check out that Bat-Plane, in the page reproduction
above. Are jets normally s'posed to... y'know... land like
that? I mean: standing straight UP, like a frickin' flagpole
-- ?!?)
"Himmel!" the cry goes up, as dozens upon dozens of similarly ineptly-
attired Hessian henchmen come thundering out of the nearby barracks like... well... a bunch of henchmen, really. "The American pair of crime-
fighters... Batman and Robin!"
"... and don't forget the Elongated Man!" a jovial Ralph chirrups in
cheery summation, like... well... an ineffectual and egocentric jerkweed.
As the Dynamic Duo set about the wholesome business of jacking some long-overdue
Nazi jaws and suchlike, the Elongated Man demonstrates those oft-referenced
and little-seen "deduction" abilities of his, re: the speedy stalking
and cornering of General Von Dort. (i.e., he stretches his
head into various conveniently open windows, making noises like a wounded Werner
Klemperer.)
The good news: Ralph stumbles across General Von Dort.
The bad news: Ralph stumbles across General Von Dort.
"Now, you American snooper," the monocled malevoloent mockingly murmurs; "... you will do exactly as I command!"
"That power coming from his monocle," the mind-numbed myrmidon inwardly muses; "... it's affected me... my brain! Can't... throw it off -- !"
... and -- with no more preamble than that -- the dazed and dazzled Dibny de-elongates back down to ground level...
... and promptly does his level best to throttle the holy heck out of Gotham's Dynamic Duo.
"Can't move," a panicky Boy Wonder wheezes, whilst attempting to fend off Ralph's left leg. (Only on this site do you ever get to see sentences like that, by God!) "Like being squeezed... in a vise!"
"For Ralph's sake," a ferociously struggling Batman manages to husk; "... and ours... we've got to free ourselves, Robin! Listen... follow my lead... quick!" Whereupon, the twin tornados take out the ensorcled Elongated Man by [Pick One]:
A.) ... cunningly maneuvering to squeeze the very breath out of him with his own elasticized limbs.
B.) ... finding a gigantic Sunday newspaper, and using his freakish face to make fun impressions of various comic strip characters.
C.) ... dressing up a hysterically blubbering Robin as wife Sue Dibny, and... ummmm... distracting him. And then getting the Boy Wonder some much-needed reconstructive surgery.
D.) ... oh, hell: they just taking turns whacking the holy living
crap out of the silly little spandexed wannabe. I mean... the Elongated
Man, f'chrissakes
"Breath-taking moments later..." (Boy...
that John Broome. Whatta card, huh...?)
"Von Dort..." Ralph manages to gasp, scant seconds before slipping into blissful unconsciousness; "... his monocle... danger...!"
"Monocle?" a plainly perplexed Batman echoes; clearly having forgotten, in the midst of all this excitement, that the Reich-inspired rogue he's been pursuing for the better part of a bloody week by this point is, in fact, sporting a distinctively uni-focular appearance.
An over-eager Boy Wonder attempts to square spandexed accounts with a suddenly appearing Von Dort, by kulturkampfing him in the mouth eight or ten times; only to find himself afforded no better treatment, ultimately, than the similarly stunned Ralph.
Thankfully for all involved, however: there's
a for-real super-hero on the premises.
Afterwards -- with a suitably K.O.'d Von Dort haviing been duly carted away by the appropriate authorities (chained and manacled, one hopes, in a small, window-less room somewhere; with a grainy, 16mm print of ILSA: SHE-WOLF OF THE S.S. being projected against the far wall. Over and over and over again.) -- the Batman, after examining the General's machinery, informs his partners that:
"This death ray Von Dort was working on would have killed anything in its range! If he had been allowed to perfect it [...] millions of people would have died, in his march to world conquest!"...
... which (let's face it) is a not-inconsiderable step upwards, "props"-
wise, from having "Once Managed To Poke Captain Boomerang A Good One" as the high point on your super-hero resume.
So: that's a legitimate "gimme" for the ol' Ralphster, then.
Well: we've seen enough of how DC's resident Stretchable Sleuth handles things whilst yoked in tandem with the bigger kids on the four-
color block, I think.
Be right here a fast fourteen days from now, then...
... and we'll all take an appreciative and instructive gander at an example (or two) of crime-fighting a la Ralph: solo style.
Yup; that's right.
All of you die-hard Dibny-aholics out there are finally going to have
something other to e-mail Unca Cheeks than: "Hey! Lay off
the poor guy, willya...?"
Again: be here.
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