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The (KINDA)(SORTA)Super-Heroic
Legacy of Ralph Dibny: THE
ELONGATED MAN
[ Part Five]
If the (so-called) "mysteries" with which the indefatigable Ralph Dibny was generally presented, back in the day, were (frequently) a tad on the easy-does-it side...
... they were, nonetheless, vastly entertaining little eight page affairs: tidily plotted; snappily dialogued; and (most memorably of all) gorgeously rendered by that most signal of Silver Age DC interpreters, Carmine Infantino.
Too: they effectively demonstrated (more so, I think, than any "deductive" abilities, in especial; they scarcely being, as stated, real "mysteries" at all, in the classic sense of the word) a plucky persistence on the Elongated Man's part; as well as (even more importantly) the wholly admirable ability of Ralph Dibny to think on his feet; to "guesstimate" quickly; and a ready willingness to go with the (often correct) "gut" instinct, whenever confronted by incipient crisis.
Rather than an out-and-out "detective," then... I consider Ralph Dibny to be more of an innate and intuitive extemporizer: blessed with the enviable native ability to know when to "pick up the dice" of brute circumstance (if you like)...
... and the native genius requisite to the rolling of natural "sevens,"
virtually on demand, thereof. 
Let us examine the following, then... in the light afforded us by the foregoing:
"Green Lantern's Blackout" [DETECTIVE COMICS #350; April, 1966; author unknown; Carmine Infantino, artist] opens up with Ralph Dibny being gifted with a birthday serenade, courtesy of loyal and adoring wife, Sue.
"Say, that's right," a bleary-eyed Ralph muses; "... it is my birthday! I still remember the terrific surprise Sue prepared for me on my last birthday!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: ohhhhhh... stop sniggering and leering like
that, for pity's sake! It was an impromptu mystery, all right?
I swear, you people are all such pitiless, degenerate animals...!]
"Okay, honey!" an enthused Ralph carols, sniffing this way and that way in their hotel room. (The traveling Dibny's, you see, were -- and remain -- the married "gypsies" of the DC univverse; gadding about the countryside and residing within an endless series of swank and expensive hotel suites, on heiress Sue's generous "dime.") "Where is it? What's my birthday present this time?" To which the sweetly smiling Sue, in turn, responds [Pick One]:
A.) "You'll have to be patient, birthday boy! It won't be ready until two o'clock!"
B.) SUE (smiling): "Same thing as last year, you big silly!"
RALPH (ecstatic): "Oh, boy! Chuck E. Cheese for lunch... AND Batman gets to sleep over tonight, an' play CANDYLAND with me, an' ev'rything! YAAAAAAY -- !"
C.) SUE (smiling): "Same thing as last year, you big silly!" [crosses over to the closet; opens it, to reveal a blindfolded, bound and gagged pre-adolescent boy] "No known relatives. No witnesses. Rock on, Degenerate Lad."
D.) SUE (smiling; produces a wad of Silly Putty
from behind her back): "Just what you've always wanted,
darling! Say hello to little Ralph Junior -- !"
Warned by an imperious Sue to be returned not one instant past two o'clock, on the dot; an enthused Ralph dresses and makes his way down to the hotel lobby, whereupon he is besieged by an eager swarm of autograph hounds.
"Pardon me, sir," one particular gentleman murmurs, separating himself from the aforementioned throng of fawners and worshippers; "... but aren't you Ralph Dibny, the Elongated Man?"
"That's what these autograph hounds tell me," the elasticized egomaniac chuckles, good-naturedly. "Just stand in line and --"
"Oh, I'm here for something more important than an autograph," the mysterious stranger -- who (from the sartorial look of things) has been rummaging deep, d-e-e-p into Jimmy Olsen's remnant pile -- counters. "My name's Thomas Kalmuku... but my pal Green Lantern calls me Pieface! It's because of Green Lantern that I'm here! He needs help... desperately!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: Yeah, yeah... I know, all right? "Pieface."
It was twenty-five YEARS ago, f'chrissakes. Let's just all
count ourselves damned lucky they never thought of tarting him up in the obligatory
fuzzy parka and mittens.]
"Green Lantern's had a mental blackout," Thomas continues. "Not only doesn't he know who he is... but he thinks that today is the day after tomorrow! When I read in the newspapers you were in town... I rushed right over to see you!"
"You did the right thing, Pieface!" the ethnically sensitive Elongated Man concurs. "That kind of mystery is right up my alley!"
On their way over to the Ferris Aircraft complex (where test pilot Hal Jordan -- a.k.a. Green Lantern -- earns an honest dollar), Thomas continues supplying Ralph with the details of this particular conundrum.
"In order for you to understand what's happened," Thomas concedes; "... I'll have to take a chance, and reveal Green Lantern's secret identity to you! I know you'll keep that information in strictest confidence!"
"Naturally," Ralph readily concurs, frantically jotting down notes on a yellow
legal pad; nudging the miniature recording device disguised as a matchbook closer
towards Thomas with one careful knee; and surreptitiously punching up the number
of the "hot tip" desk for THE NATIONAL ENQUIRER on his cell phone.
The who-shot-John runs as follows: shortly after returning from an unspecified
"mission in deep space," Green Lantern (after assuming his "Hal Jordan" identity)
begins to display telltale signs of both temporal and spatial diaspora; showing
up a day early for a scheduled test flight; attempting to re-charge his nigh-omnipotent
Power Ring a scant hour after having previously done so, while still in his
civilian identity; dashing about in a fuzzy pink bunny suit and belligerently
demanding painted eggs from frightened and hapless passers-by. Stuff like
that, there.
It gets worse before it gets better: Hal professes not even to remember being the designated Green Lantern for this space sector; shows up an hour later, now convinced that he's already successfully completed the aforementioned test flight; and returns to the site of his invisible Power Battery to re-charge his ring yet a third time!
The keenly intuitive Ralph, in turn, responds to Thomas' recited litany of woes, re: Hal, by [Pick One]:
A.) ... moving his finger back and forth across his lips and making a wubba-wubba-wubba sound.
B.) ... offering to make Thomas' friend feel more "at ease" with the rest of his brethren within the spandexed community, by kicking out everyone else in the Justice League of America, save for the Batman; and obligingly re-naming the organization The All-Demented Sociopaths Squadron of America, instead.
C.) ... pointing out that Arkham Asylum is only a two or three day "road trip" away, by car.
D.) ... offering Thomas "five hundred smackers" for the ring; "... cash
money, bay-beee!"
Arriving at Ferris Aircraft, the determined duo are startled to observe that the site's sentries are sprawled and unconscious at their designated posts; with a phalanx of (putative) assailants darting away from same.
"There's not much cash here," Thomas points out to his plasticized pal. "They must've swiped our top-secret plans -- !"
"One of them has a hand sprayer," Ralph observes; "... probably filled
with the same gas that put everyone here into a deep sleep!" (Oh,
dearest God! Those fiends have managed to distill the essence of
Celine Dion into a gaseous state -- !)
With no further preamble than that, Thomas and Ralph launch themselves towards the fleeing gunsels; the latter of whom (whether due to inborn combat puissance, or simply luck of the pugilistic draw) give one holy heck of a good accounting for themselves, in turn.
At one point along the testosteroned way, the battle is joined by none other than the redoubtable Mr. Jordan, his own bad self; laying into his newfound foemen with all the natural ability and overall efficaciousness of... of...
... well: of a super-hero, actually.
The solicitous Thomas, however, remains no less consternated on behalf of his boon companion.
"Why doesn't Hal switch to Green Lantern?" he anguishes, inwardly.
"He'd overpower 'em in one second flat!" (Forgetting, apparently,
the circumstances initially compelling him to seek out the Elongated Man's assistance
in the first place. The big dummy.)
"Pieface kept looking at me as if he expected me to handle these gunmen all by myself," a puzzled Hal observes, once the dust has finally settled. "After all, I'm only one guy -- !"
(More likely: he's probably fixin'
you with the ol' Hairy Eyeball because of this goldanged "Pieface" business,
Mr. Roger Ramjet, sir. Lay off with the @#$%ing "PIEFACE,"
for the love of God! It's THOMAS, awright? T-H-O-M-A-S!
Buy a vowel, f'chrissakes -- !)
Long since fed all the way up to here with this whole I-Am-the-Very-
Model-of-a-Modern-Major-Amnesiac ramdamdoola, an aggravated Ralph latches onto the both of 'em with an elongated limb apiece; dragging the pair into the hangar where Hal's invisible Power Battery sits, awaiting and forgotten.
"Why you bring me in here?" a now thoroughly befuddled Hal inquires of his grim-faced fellows.
"Go ahead, Hal," an earnest Thomas implores. "Nobody can see us in here! Will your Power Ring to restore your memory! Go on... concentrate!"
More out of bemusement than any real belief that these two yo-yo's have so much as Clue Numero Uno what they're babbling on about: Hal closes his eyes; concentrates with that one-in-a-billion will power of his...
... and: bingo.
"As we were passing through the shell of gas emitted by a nebula on your return from outer space," the (quasi-)sentient ring informs the assembled onlookers, in flashback; "... I sensed that the nebula gas was having a strange effect on your brain [...] the gas caused you to have partial amnesia! Being also filled with chronal forces, it warped your time-sense! Time gradually became foreshortened... an hour was like a day to you... and then you forgot completely that you are Green Lantern!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: ... and let the record show, ladies and gentlemen
of the online jury, that -- once again -- neither "deduction" nor "logic"
had diddley-doo-dah to do with the summary resolution of yet another
"mystery." The perceptive Mr. Dibny's observations -- once again
-- serve as the fuel for the engine of his intuitions... PERIOD.
End of sentence; end of paragraph; end of story.]
"There's one more thing, GL," a contrite Thomas offers, once the veils of mem'ry have been parted for all concerned; "... and I hope you won't be sore at me! But -- in order for the Elongated Man to help you -- I had to tell him your Green Lantern identity -- "
"You did what had to be done, Pie," a gently smiling Hal counters, making a mental note to pound the filthy, misbegotten little quisling like a bloody tent peg the very second no one's around to watch. "Besides, we can trust the Elongated Man with our secret!"
The redoubtable Ralph, however, demurs. "No! For me to discover your secret identity this way is... too easy! I love to solve mysteries!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: Shyeah. Right.]
"I get the message," Hal responds, willing the hastily-conjured Uzi hidden behind him back into non-existence once more. "You want me to Power Ring you to forget my secret identity!"
... and -- once the requested impromptu lobotommizing has been satisfactorily attended to; and Ralph's memory of all things ring-ish has thus been abbreviated -- a quick glance towards a nearby walll clock causes his eyes to widen in sudden alarm.
"The time -- !" Ralph moans. "I'm due in the hoteel lobby in one minute! I'll never make it -- !"
A sly, mischievous smile plays at the corners of Hal Jordan's lips; there's a sudden flashing of powerful, emerald energies; annnnnd --
" [...] the Stretchable Sleuth finds himself in the hotel lobby," we are breathlessly informed.
"Ralph, you got here just in time," a blase Sue Dibny observes; not even the least little bit curious, apparently, as to whys and wherefores of her beloved hubby's sudden and inexplicable appearance out of jack nowhere. "Here's your birthday present!"
Said "present" is, in plain point of fact, a brand spanking new costume; the familiar red-and-gold fighting togs which served Ralph Dibny so admirably and well throughout the remainder of the '60's; all of the '70's; and into the earliest portion of the '80's, to boot.
One heck of a sweet little present, that.
DC Comics' Elongated Man was (and remains, to this very day) a pleasant and engaging character, overall. The loving, banter-filled relationship enjoyed by he and his wife, Sue -- with its thoroughly enjoyable undertones reminiscent of that classic cinematic couple, Nick and Nora Charles -- lends him further fannish cachet, as well; and (doubtless) goes no little way towards explaining the reservoir of good will accorded him over the years, in said circles...
... even if pegging him as a "detective" in the classic, Batman-style sense is --
... well... stretching a point, ultimately.
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