What's great about myth-hunting is that how even the lesser near-myths show up in the most unexpected places.
Though a lot of Silver Age DC serial characters have earned a measure of popularity-- sometimes more than they enjoyed in their original eras-- DC's anthology-stories usually don't generate even nostalgic memories. And for the most part, these one-shot tales don't deserve much respect. Marvel fans still celebrate many of the one-off stories from that company's Silver Age, if only because of stellar art-talents like Kirby and Ditko, But who in the ranks of DC fans care much about the output of the DC anthologies of the late fifties and early sixties? They're usually tepid gimmick-dominated narratives, crafted by a company that valued conformity to a subdued art-style (allegedly that of comic strip artist Dan Barry)-- a company that believed that its dominion of the market was etched in stone-- or steel.
I found a modest exception to this rule while glancing through HOUSE OF SECRETS #23, which was the first appearance of the serial character Mark Merlin. Merlin's debut was underwhelming to say the least. However, this issue also contained "The Creeping Creatures of Steel," penciled by George Roussos. Naturally no writer is credited, but since Jack Miller is credited with the "Merlin" tale, I'll call "Creeping's" author "Maybe-Miller."
"Creeping" opens with one of the many unlikely attractions that appeared in Silver Age DC comics: an amusement park called "Legend Land," wherein the three dominant rides are modeled after Greek mythological monsters: the three-headed dog Cerberus, the winged Harpy, and the hybrid monster Chimera. But suddenly the three monstrous structures come alive and start galumping around.
The park-owner calls in Larkin, the engineer who created the constructs, but he knows nothing about their curious capacity for perambulation. He suggests using magnets to restrain the monsters, and since there happens to be a magnet factory nearby, the humans try to restrain the Cerberus with a big one. Despite what the dialogue says ("Nothing can stop this thing"), the magnet apparently slows Cerberus down enough that an "acetylene torch crew" is able to dismantle the three-headed dog-scraper in jig time, despite the fact that the other two monsters are getting closer. But then the two creeping creatures and the disassembled beams go flying through the air.
The last two pages wrap things up in tidy fashion. The befuddled humans observe that the three "creatures" are homing in on the Ajax Iron Mine from which their raw materials were taken. All the humans can do is watch as the creatures, as well as a truck full of iron ore, return to the mine. They also provide a sci-fi rationale, since Larkin just happens to remember that a meteor struck the mine long ago, turning the metal there into "cosmic iron" that possesses the attribute of "self-magnetism."
On the face of things, "Creeping" is just another gimmick-tale with thoroughly dull talking-head characters. But of the many myth-figures from which Maybe-Miller could have chosen, he happened to pick monsters who all have ties to the Greek underworld. Two of the three were birthed by the serpentine deities Typhon and Echidna, while a third, the Harpy, was linked in some stories to Typhon and a different mother. However dimly, these constructs, made in the image of creatures aligned to death and darkness, defy the will of mortals by returning to the underworld that spawned them.
Of course there are no "self-magnetic" minerals; the only entities with "homing instincts" are animals. Of the animals referenced in the myth-creatures-- dog (Cerberus), goat, lion and serpent (Chimera), and bird (Harpy)-- only birds have a strong repute for said instincts. I don't claim that Maybe-Miller had any conscious intent beyond turning out another gimmick-tale. But there's more myth-potential here than in a couple hundred similar stories from Silver Age DC.
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