VARIANT REVISIONS PT. 2

 Some of my current terminology re: "originary and variant propositions" was preceded by the two essay-series CRYPTO-CONTINUITY AND DOPPELGANGBANGERS, starting here. In those essays I more or less used "template" to stand in for the current "originary proposition," "template deviation" to stand in for "variant propositions," and "total deviation" to stand in for "null-variant propositions." All of these terms, though, are predicated on analyzing the propositions "from outside," seen from the POV of the "real" reader.

However, it's not impossible to see many if not all such variations "from inside," as if all of the propositions weren't just created by isolated raconteurs but were instead variations on archetypal tropes that precede even the first "originary proposition." 

It's true thar often the originary proposition is the strongest one in terms of evoking one or more of the four potentialities, which is why I previously compared such propositions to the sort of template used, say, in early printing technology. I mentioned in the CRYPTO series major icons like KING KONG and DRACULA, and it would be hard to argue that any of the variations on these figures, however entertaining, exceeded the originals in any way. 

      

  However, there are times that the originary proposition is not the most compelling, even on simpler levels. The durable Terrytoons stars "Heckle and Jeckle" are known by most viewers as a pair of wisecracking male magpies. However, the first cartoon in the series, 1946's "The Talking Magpies," posited them as a married male-and-female couple that caused no end of trouble for Farmer Al Falfa. Paul Terry then chose to issue a "rebooted" Heckle and Jeckle that same year with "The Uninvited Pests," and as two identical males with differing accents, the characters enjoyed another 51 theatrical cartoons. So in terms of popular success, the variant proposition was the more successful, not least because two obnoxious males could be used in many more slapstick situations than a married magpie pair.

Now, if one wanted to take the archetypal perspective I suggested above, one could imagine two parallel worlds, one in which Heckle and Jeckle were both male, and one in which they were a married couple. Most fictional propositions regarding parallel worlds are not much less chimerical. The parallel-world explanation for duplicate versions of DC characters such as Flash and Green Lantern sometimes verged on expressions of archetypal realities, though usually in fairly clumsy terms. The first Green Lantern begins very poorly-- I read the first volume of Golden Age reprints and could barely see any reasons for the success of the character beyond the base idea of a hero with a wonder-working "magic ring." Later in the series writers conceived a few subordinate characters-- Solomon Grundy, Vandal Savage-- evocative enough that DC Comics made them major figures in the company's later cosmology. But I'm not sure that, taken just on their Golden Age appearances, Grundy or Savage were as good IN THEIR TIME as the better villains of that era, from serials like Batman, Wonder Woman, or even Airboy and The Hangman. In contrast, the Silver Age Green Lantern, which crossbred the rudimentary Alan Scott concept with the "space ranger" ideas of the prose "Lensmen" series, displayed excellence in the kinetic and mythopoeic potentialities within a few years.

Even "soft reboots" within the same cosmos-- which make no use of "parallel worlds" as such-- are often treated as constituting variant propositions in, say, fandom-wikis like the DC Database. The 1988 ANIMAL MAN, reviewed here, dispenses with any idea that two separate Animal-Men co-exist in two distinct worlds. Rather, the first one knows that he was created by one author and rejected in favor of an updated hero with the same name by another author. Yet at the same time, Grant Morrison suggests that there's some loosely archetypal limbo where even the lamest characters ever created (hello, Ultra the Multi-Alien) continue to exist. And some soft reboots are performed not through intention but through error. In the first VARIANT REVISIONS, I took pains to analyze how Bob Haney first created a reasonably evocative mystery villain in one TEEN TITANS story. Yet when Haney later needed a make-work villain to plug into a hastily conceived scenario, the writer simply rewrote the established character's motivations to suit his current needs. As if to compound the error, George Perez constructed yet another ramshackle artifice on top of Haney's blunder and, to the extent that DC fans think of The Gargoyle at all, they probably defer to the Perez interpretation.

Some soft reboots even occur simply in response to changing tastes or priorities. Jerry Siegel's original Superman, while always devoted to justice, sometimes played fast and loose with legalities. DC editors didn't like that, possibly fearing a profitable character would get targeted by moral watchdogs-- which eventually happened anyway-- and so Silver Age Superman became an absolute stickler for obeying the law, even the law of made-up planets. Here too I would probably argue that Silver Age Superman surpassed the originary proposition in many though not all respects-- though the more creative Golden Age concepts of Siegel and his collaborators became the essential foundation for the Silver Age proposition.  

More to come.

        

MYTHCOMICS: "THE 1001 DOOMS OF MISTER TWISTER" (THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD #54, 1964)

 

Just as I didn't expect to find a mythcomic in one of the late "Spooky Titans" adventures of the TEEN TITANS' first run, as chronicled here, I also wasn't expecting to reread the first TITANS story and find any concrescent myth-tropes in it, not least because I didn't remember it as a strong story. (Part of the problem was the art by Bruno Premaini, who didn't suit this feature all that well.) But on rereading Bob Haney's first story with the nascent team-- which wouldn't get a formal name until B&B #60-- I found that the tropes were there. But just like "Scourge of the Skeletal Riders," it's not the heroes who incarnate the myth-tropes, but the one-shot menace to the protagonists.

Certainly the title-- which connotes nothing in the story but may be hyperbole meant to suggest the 1000 NIGHTS-- and the opening are nothing impressive. Like many of the Silver/Bronze Age TITANS stories, this one begins with the idea that the Titans-to-be are uniquely situated to solve problems between teenagers and adults. The quarrel in "Dooms"-- the teens of Hatton Corners want a clubhouse, and the adults want "more chores less play" from the adolescents-- is jejune in the extreme. Still, the teens are so hungry for mediators that they write separate letters to Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad, and all three young heroes show up at the small town.

Contrary to expectations, the heroes see the teen club's old meeting-place wrecked. The local adults think the teens did it themselves and ran away, but after Kid Flash and Aqualad hunt about in all directions on land and in the sea, the Titans conclude that something weird is going on. The instigator of the weirdness quickly shows up, a man in colonial garb riding a tornado and calling himself Mister Twister. The mayor immediately recognized the man as "Brom Stikk" (more on the name later) and he freely admits that he spirited away the teens of Hatton Corners.

    

Even ten-year-olds reading this funnybook in 1964 would have recognized one trope from the folkloric story of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" here. However, Haney adds some interesting new tropes, particularly one that some sites label "The Impossible Task." In colonial times, the land on which Hatton Corners was founded was owned by one Jacob Stikk. But he didn't give the land outright but required that "until the end of time the town will pay me and my descendants one passenger pigeon feather yearly or forfeit ne of your stalwart youths to labor in my service for that year." Jacob's pilgrim contemporaries consider this an elaborate joke, since at the time it's easy to acquire such feathers. So, while the Pied Piper just wants coin of the realm, Jacob sets up a task that's not impossible yet, but which will be in future-- for the implicit purpose of gaining the services of the community's youths. Apparently at some point both Jacob and his immediate descendants vanish, so that the elders of Hatton Corners get used to not paying the rental fee. Then in 1964 Brom Stikk, the alleged descendant of Jacob, shows up clad in a feathered robe and a tricorn hat, and demands all the back rent he's owed. Even though what Brom wants would be valueless even if passenger pigeons weren't extinct, the elders of present-day Hatton Corners laugh Brom out of town, just as the Piper was denied his legitimate fee.

Naturally, the Titans care no more about the justice of Brom's claim than the town-elders do; they care only about rescuing the missing teens. And though most folktales about Impossible Tasks don't involve payments of extinct-animal plumage, the entire "rental fee" comes to resemble a demonic bargain, morphologically closer to Rumpelstilskin more than the Pied Piper. Readers of "Rumpelstilskin" never know why the imp wants the firstborn of the young woman who accepts his bargain, which can only be cancelled by the completion of a seemingly Impossible Task (learning the imp's name). But "Dooms" offers a pretty fair motive: the Titans locate all the captive teens on a nearby island, laboring to construct a pointless monument to Twister's ego. (I note in passing that page 11 of "Dooms" also shows Kid Flash and Aqualad quarreling slightly about whose powers are better, a likely indicator of DC writers embracing more hero-conflict in response to Stan Lee's game-changing of the superhero paradigm.)

Here we see Brom repeating his Impossible Task trope, telling the teens they'll be punished if they don't complete the tower while he Brom is absent. Kid Flash functions as the "helpful animal/god" in similar folktales, completing the task for them, though technically the task isn't necessary, because before Twister gets back, Aqualad summons a whale to break the island from its connection to the ocean-floor and carry it and the captives away. Meanwhile, Robin tails Twister and sees him renew his staff's powers in the cave of an Indian medicine-man. Robin attacks and is defeated, after which Twister drops him off in Hatton Corners, along with a note that he will bring three (not 1001) dooms to the town if he doesn't get his pigeon feathers.

Since we're never in Twister's head for very long, once can't say that he's aware that the elders can't deliver the payment the villain wants. It's more likely that he always intends to destroy the town out of spite, and that's where his "broomstick" name becomes significant: he's a supervillain version of a malefic witch, who wants to wreak evil for evil's sake. The super-powers of Kid Flash and Aqualad are vital in forestalling the three dooms, but it's Robin, whose lack of powers Brom sneers at, who disarms the overconfident evildoer. (I note in passing that the artist shows Brom losing his feathered cape a la Icarus, even though his cape has nothing to do with his ability to fly by conjuring up twisters.)

The adults and teens of Hatton Corners are reconciled while Twister is taken away, never to reappear in his original identity, but only in retconned variants. I conclude that though I don't know how hip Bob Haney was to name-origins, I find it interesting that "Hatton" is often interpreted to mean (roughly) the "settlement of untamed land." In the case of "1001 Dooms," the settlement would seem to imply the banishment of such insidious presences as witches and devils before civilization can take hold-- which suggests that at times Haney allowed his storytelling instincts to roam more freely than he did in other instances.

VARIANT REVISIONS

 In ICONIC PROPOSITIONS PT. 2, I gave two examples of established literary works, ROB ROY and IVANHOE, which respectively represented PURE and IMPURE forms of variant propositions, said purity being based on how much the narrative is based on previously established figures. However, particular icons within variant narratives may be deemed originary.

In the previous essay I analyzed "Requiem for a Titan," a TEEN TITANS story which related the first appearance of the Gargoyle. The character didn't appear very often, but because he did not, he offers a fair illustration of the way an originary icon-- albeit one situated within a variant proposition about a team of sidekicks--gets changed over time, even by the icon's creator.

 Bob Haney returned to the Gargoyle twice, but the first story, "A Titan is Born" (TEEN TITANS #35, 1971), wasn't an auspicious return. In this tale Haney tried to find something interesting to do with non-powered Titan Mal Duncan, a character introduced by Robert Kanigher during the "Relevant Titans" phase. In these seven pages, Mal pulls solitary computer-watching duty at the Titans HQ. A scientist named Heller-- the Gargoyle in disguise-- intrudes on Mal's solitude, claiming to be a colleague of the group's patron. Haney's vague on a vital point-- that somehow the Titans computer, set to perform some unspecified experiment, opened a dimensional doorway, allowing the Gargoyle to return to Earth. By story's end Mal manages to reverse the experiment and send the villain packing. The odd variance in the tale is the Gargoyle's own creator seems to have forgotten his original idea. In "Requiem," there's no indication that the tale Gargoyle told about his being an ex-convict was anything but a dodge to seed doubt into the heroes' minds. Since in "Requiem" Haney gave Gargoyle no real identity, and since in "Titan" he needed a quick-and-dirty motivation for the villain's actions, he faked one. Haney could never have anticipated how many odd turns his minor deviation from his originary story would later generate.               

Haney wrote one last story with Gargoyle, which I reviewed in detail here, and I don't need to say anything more about it except that Haney just treats the villain like a demon escaping its domain. Then in TEEN TITANS #53 (1978), writer Bob Rozakis contributed another link in the confusion. Rozakis imagines a story that supposedly took place between the canonical first and second adventures. Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, Speedy and Wonder Girl team up for this "actual second Titans tale." All the sidekicks' mentors-- Batman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Arrow and Wonder Woman-- have suddenly turned into remorseless criminals. The young heroes prove their stuff by capturing the evil-ized good guys, and then, by dumb luck, the Titans stumble across the solution to the mystery by attempting to hold the Justice Leaguers at the JLA headquarters. There, the Titans meet one of the dumbest looking aliens ever conceived in comics (by artists Delbo and Fuller) -- The Antithesis. 

Rozakis gives no reason as to why the Antithesis is hanging out at the JLA HQ, and the heroes don't even smoke him out. The villain pops up to keep the Titans from contacting other Leaguers, but at the same time he shows absolutely no ability to attack anyone. He followed the Leaguers "from a far corner of the galaxy" because he could gain great energy by dominating heroes and making them do bad things. (This story has nothing to do with Haney's Gargoyle, but the Antithesis and Gargoyle are not dissimilar in that raison d'etre.) As the Titans attack Antithesis, he proves immaterial, but that's because they've cut off his supply of corrupted-hero energy. The evil ET seems to be hoping his last pawn will win in the field, though that pawn is defeated and Antithesis vanishes, wailing something about "power generators." From what Rozakis writes, the only "power generators" Antithesis has access to would be his heroic pawns.     

It was left to George Perez, long after he and Marv Wolfman had reworked the TEEN TITANS concept into a sales success, to link Haney's Gargoyle with Rozakis' Antithesis, and with a separate character as well. "Pieces of the Puzzle" (SECRET ORIGINS ANNUAL #3, 1989) is mostly a mashup of selected stories from the Haney, Rozakis and Wolfman-Perez eras, conveyed to the reader by dream-scenes experienced by Nightwing as he's tormented by a cowled enemy. As a story "Puzzle" may be worse than that the Rozakis "Antithesis" tale, though the art is much better. But to make his story work, Perez interpolates an odd new detail; that the Antithesis was hiding in the JLA's own computers. This detail seems to serve no purpose, and I hypothesize that Perez confused the origin of the Antithesis with Haney's "Titan is Born" tale, where Gargoyle gets out of limbo thanks to the Titans HQ computer. Perez recounts the Haney tale at the end of "Puzzle" as he's retconning it into the narrative of Mal Duncan, but that retcon doesn't actually require the revision of the Rozakis story.      

The big Three Reveals, if one can call them such, is that (a) the cowled figure giving Nightwing bad dreams is The Gargoyle, (b) The Gargoyle is really the Titans' first foe Mister Twister (which factoid could be used to justify Haney's erroneous 1971 story), and (c) Gargoyle got all his powers, in both identities, from the Antithesis. Whenever I read this, I remember thinking it was a good idea to combine the best enemy of the original Titans with their first one. But now I recognize that Perez was a little too desperate to shoehorn together unrelated stories for a superficial effect. In fact, there's are so many retcons in "Puzzle" that there was no room for the author to expatiate on the Gargoyle-Antithesis relationship in the story proper, so it all had to be explained in a prose sidebar. 

Of course, heavy-continuity stories can be done well. But since my next essay will discuss the mythic tropes surrounding the Titans' first antagonist, I felt it necessary to explain why I thought all of these variant propositions were badly framed.         

NEAR-MYTHS: "REQUIEM FOR A TITAN" (TEEN TITANS #14, 1968)

 

In this essay I distinguished three general periods in the first run of the TEEN TITANS feature: "Wacky Titans," "Relevant Titans," and "Spooky Titans." But "Requiem for a Titan" was an odd game-changer for long-time DC scripter Bob Haney. "Requiem" didn't mark a sea-change for the feature-- future stories still utilized a lot of wackiness revolving around the alliance of the teen sidekicks-- so it seems like Haney just had a sudden desire to thrust the innocent barely-adults into the chaos of guilt and moral breakdown.     

In a haunting sequence-- or as haunting as a comic with brightly clad superheroes can get-- artist Nick Cardy outdoes himself. Robin the Boy Wonder meets a new fiend, The Gargoyle, in a graveyard that includes prominent markers for Robin and his teammates. At the white-clad villain's command, Robin divests himself of parts of his costume, as if surrendering parts of himself. He balks at removing his mask, but the Gargoyle conjures up giant phantom images of the other Titans, all of whom mock the Boy Wonder. Robin capitulates and removes the mask, upon which action the villain projects a ray from his ring. Robin vanishes as the Gargoyle cackles that "the Teen Titans are embraced by Limbo-- and in Limbo rule I, the Gargoyle."

So what is Limbo, before it was the name of a Trinidadian dance? Early Catholic theology, particularly that of Augustine, posited Limbo as an intermediary realm between Heaven, which was a reward for believers, and Hell, a punishment for unbelievers. Since Bob Haney never defines the nature of the otherworldly dimension he calls Limbo, it's fair to speculate that Haney wants to get across the idea that the place is somehow an exception to the norms of good and evil, even if Limbo's under the control of a demonic-looking master.

A long flashback then transpires, as we are told how the Gargoyle came into the Titans' lives. Though none of them ever saw him before, the costumed figure claims that he went to prison, and that one of the Titans sent him there by falsifying evidence. Though Gargoyle produces zero evidence for his claim, three of the Titans-- Aqualad, Kid Flash and Wonder Girl-- simultaneously place credence in the notion, and all three suspect the detective member of their group of the malfeasance. But nothing about the Gargoyle's story is anything but gaslighting; he fed the heroes his phony story in the hope that all of them would suspect one another. Robin alone did not suspect his teammates, but the doubt nurtured by three of them allows the Gargoyle to consign them to his domain. 

Further, after exposing the doubt-ridden heroes to the influence of Limbo, Gargoyle can bring them back as giant phantom versions of themselves, but with their morals reversed, so that they now hate Robin and everything in the "real world." Gargoyle leaves the noble-minded Boy Wonder to perish in a fire, but he survives, though the world thinks the other Titans dead. Robin then seeks out the security of the Titans secret HQ, only to learn that Gargoyle and his "phantom titans" have taken it over, with the fiend claiming that he and his allies will "wreak crime and evil for the greater glory of the Gargoyle." (Note that nowhere in the story does Gargoyle ever disclose any simple, mundane motive for gain or power.) Robin escapes again, but he refuses to reach out to any other heroes, such as his mentor Batman or the Justice League. Though he's done nothing of which to be ashamed, he's immensely guilt-ridden by his failure to stop Gargoyle-- which is more regret than one sees in the story from the three "faithless" Titans.

After a couple more pages the flashback ends, and we see how Robin, after being hit by the rays from the villain's ring, has entered the free-form world of Limbo, now transformed into another giant phantom. However, the Boy Wonder tricked the villain into merely thinking he Robin had filled his mind with evil thoughts. (Gargoyle's raison d'etre seems to be the opposite of Peter Pan's, where "happy  thoughts" conferred power.)

  After Robin clobbers his ensorcelled teammates, he and Gargoyle have a battle in the bizarre Limbo-realm. Robin cleverly sabotages Gargoyle's ring, which action conveniently strands the villain between dimensions, but delivers all four Titans back on Earth and none the worse for wear. The three "traitors" have forgotten all of their evil deeds, and there's no firm evidence in the story that Robin tells any of them what happened.

Haney, like other DC writers of his generation, must have executed dozens of "scientific-Gothic" story-resolutions, wherein an apparently supernatural phenomenon is neatly explained by some technological gimmick. Not only is Gargoyle's true identity never revealed here, one sees no firm denial that he may indeed be some extra-dimensional being. Now, there are a few concessions to the possibility that he's just some clever Earthman. Nick Cardy's Gargoyle has claws on his hands and toes, but he also seems to have seams separating what might be gloves and boots from the rest of the silvery body. Robin calls the Gargoyle's appearance a "getup," meaning he sees it as a costume. But as I said earlier, Gargoyle certainly acts as if he just worships evil for its own sake, and as if he takes pleasure, like a medieval devil, in corrupting pure hearts. The Limbo-ring may be some form of "magical technology," and since Gargoyle admits he has no "power to remain in Limbo" without the ring, that mitigates against any view that he was actually a native of that dimension. Gargoyle did return for a small handful of stories, but no one, not even his creator, ever again gave him this level of mythic ambivalence.                             

MYTHCOMICS: "SCOURGE OF THE SKELETAL RIDERS" (TEEN TITANS #37, 1972)

 

As I stated in my previous post, I only revisited the 1966-73 TEEN TITANS comics-run because I wanted to cross-compare one of the stories with one of the TITANS cartoons of the 2000s. I had no expectations of finding a concrescent mythcomic in any of those 43 issues. Even though TEEN TITANS went through three distinct marketing phases, most of the stories were written by longtime DC journeyman Bob Haney, which didn't make for great variety. Like most of the people writing for comics in those days, Haney turned out a huge volume of tales, usually predicated on some wild premise that would theoretically grab the fancies of juvenile readers. Much like Robert Kanigher, Haney's ideas weren't always logical, though he was capable of producing tight plots around them. I considered all of his TITANS tales to do no more than time-killers, and I certainly did not expect to find any mythicity in a story from the title's least impressive phase, what I called "Spooky Titans." During this period, BTW, the heroes-- four costumed crusaders and two non-costumed-- were being sent on assorted assignments by a grey-haired eminence named Mister Jupiter, who I believe largely disappeared from DC continuity after the first TITANS series perished.                                 

 

To my great surprise, the routinely titled story "Scourge of the Skeletal Riders" started off with the heroes having a close encounter with a mystery that's never entirely solved. On their way to finish an assignment for Mister Jupiter, the Titans crack up their camper, rendering it undriveable. The only sign of civilization is a "weird old shack," where an unnamed blacksmith plies his trade. Though he speaks in an archaic fashion, he accepts the job of fixing the vehicle, but only after he finishes shoeing four lively-looking horses. The blacksmith hints darkly of some danger if he doesn't finish the shoeing on time, but the Titans are focused on their mission. They leave the camper behind and catch a ride to their destination (no roadside assistance back in 1972). Once reaching their home base, the Titans learn that their next assignment is to look for a famous teenaged photographer, Grady Dawes, who went missing in a country torn by civil war. The Titans all claim to have been well acquainted with Grady, though it's axiomatic that the character never appeared before this.                                                                                     

      

So off go the Titans to war-torn "Ranistan," pledging not to get involved in the conflict while looking for their friend. For a time I thought "Scourge" might be one of the many "anti-war" stories DC was producing in this time-period. However, though the heroes do get involved, they only seek to prevent loss of life on both sides, and the nature of the quarrel is never specified. And their first hint of something unusual is that Kid Flash seeks to warn a troop of soldiers from being attacked. A rider on a red steed overtakes the hero despite his super-speed and stuns him, so that the troop gets slaughtered.                                                                                         

Though the previous incident involved the Titans trying to save soldiers of the current regime, they seek out a rebel stronghold, looking for info on Grady. They try to liberate stores of food for starving rebels, but another weird horseman appears, beats down the heroes, and sets the food on fire. The Titans then continue their journey, with Robin playing skeptic when the psychic Lilith theorizes that they are been opposed by the legendary Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the first two riders having been War and Famine.                                                               

    The Teen Wonder is duly converted, though, for their next mission is to deliver a vital serum to mountain tribes. Plague, who naturally wants more suffering from disease, booby-traps the heroes, and though all the good guys survive, the serum is destroyed.                               

   

Naturally, there's one more Horseman to encounter: Death. The heroes are on the way to the fortress where Grady's being held for ransom, but on the way, they see "a rider on a pale horse" menacing two refugees with a scythe. Kid Flash rescues the refugees and exults in having beaten Death. However, when they get to the fortress, they learn that Death has already been there, and that the pale rider tricked Grady into getting killed. Mister Jupiter tries to assuage the despondent heroes' feelings by saying they won a "small victory" by saving the refugees (without mentioning that the heroes failed at their other three efforts). However, Haney explicitly states that Death only menaced the refugees to delay the Titans before they could reach Grady, so if they hadn't been there, the refugees would not been threatened. So this is one of the few superhero stories of the period in which the heroes have no success whatsoever in their endeavors.                                                                                              

As a capper for this dolorous downturn, the Titans return to America to get their camper. The blacksmith and his smithy have been replaced by a car repairman and his modern-day shop, and he professes not to have done any blacksmithing for decades. There is an old smithy there, but clearly this exists only so that Haney can close out the story with a "what is reality" schtick. Yet the framing narrative of the "fairyland blacksmith" confers some extra mythicity on what could have been just another spook-tale. The Four Horsemen clearly don't set up the encounter, for they have no trouble overcoming the mortal champions at every turn. The blacksmith assumes the role of a prophet of doom, casting a minatory shadow over the heroes, as if to say, "You can win a lot of battles, but against fate, even Titans strive in vain." 

TITANIC NEAR-MYTHS AND CURIOSITIES

 I wasn't expecting to write more than a quickie piece on DC's first TEEN TITANS title, which lasted (not counting three try-out stories) from issue #1 in 1966 through issue #43 in 1973. And this is still only a selective view at best, at that.                                                                 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

      

What prompted me to revisit this moldy oldie from my youth was my having reviewed all five seasons of Cartoon Network's TEEN TITANS teleseries. In this post, I evaluated the mythicity of the fifth-season episode "Revved Up" as "good," stating: 


'In the 1960s TITANS comic, the writer introduced a villain with the improbable name of "Ding Dong Daddy," who executed crimes with the help of specially rigged vehicles. This was a rare (for the time) shout-out to a cartoon character outside the boundaries of four-color comic books: the artistic persona of Earl "Big Daddy" Roth, a caricaturist renowned for weird monsters driving fast cars. REVVED UP introduces the animated Ding Dong as a guy who somehow gets hold of a secret treasure owned by the Teen Wonder himself. When Robin and the other Titans try to reacquire the mysterious item, Ding Dong compels them to participate in a car-race-- and Cyborg, who dearly loves his T-car, is more than happy to oblige.'                                                                                                                     I didn't adequately explain why I thought the episode had better than average mythicity, but it later occurred to me that I'd implied that the mere use of the imagery of the artist Roth and some of his caricatures alone conferred mythicity. I could have corrected the language of the post, and no one would have noticed but me, but I thought I could expand on my thoughts better in an ARCHIVE post. What I was trying to get across was that the images of "Big Daddy" Roth and his creations were not mythic in themselves but only accrued sociological mythicity as representations of the "car culture" of the time. I felt "Revved Up" tapped into some of the same sense of humans' fascination with high-velocity vehicles. That fascination comes across by the way the Titans, Ding Dong Daddy and other malefactors cpme up with inventive car-creations, albeit with a certain degree of reflection about how cars work in the first place. (Without that reflection, "Revved Up" wouldn't possess any more mythicity than an episode of WACKY RACES.)                                                                                                       

So much for the TITANS cartoon episode, but what about the original comic book, to which the cartoon occasionally paid homage? In the title's seven-year-run, it was comprised of three periods: "Wacky Titans" (the one all the fans joke about for its un-coolness), "Relevant Titans" (wherein some of the heroes put aside their costumes and tried to have more "street-level" adventures), and "Spooky Titans" (wherein the heroes reassumed their costumes but tended to get involved in markedly supernatural difficulties). Ding Dong Daddy appears in the third issue of the "Wacky Period," but it's one of the better issues on which writer Bob Haney and artist Nick Cardy collaborated. There's still a lot of bad "hip" dialogue that made the Wacky Period so celebrated for its nuttiness, but the plot's not that different from one of Bill Finger's Golden Age tales about Batman and Robin trying to keep young boys on the straight and narrow.                                                                                                 

  The story opens when an automated car robs a bank in Gotham City and escapes the Dynamic Duo, managing even to outmaneuver the Batmobile. By dumb luck, a governmental education committee asks the Teen Titans to investigate a high incidence of dropout high-schoolers, right in River City (OK, not really). From typical teen Danny, the heroes learn that many local teens are deserting school thanks to the high pay they earn at Ding Dong Daddy's car shop. Ding Dong is a crook of course-- he must be, since he's contributing to the delinquency of minors-- but Haney doesn't bother describing what sort of business the villain's using as his cover for his nefarious activities-- like, does he repair vehicles, or does he sell both cars and motorcycles of his own personal design? What he really does in his crime-career is to design other vehicles, like the bank-robbery buggy in Gotham, to pull off automated robberies. It's the sort of crime-career that only makes sense in the world of superheroes and their "pattern villains."                                                                                     

One might expect that once the Titans pay a call on Ding Dong, he might just quell his criminal activities and lay low. Instead, the superheroes' advent functions like a thrown gauntlet, and he sends forth three different gimmick-vehicles to confuse and confound the Titans. When Robin spies on the "Hot Rod Hive," Ding Dong sics thugs on the Boy Wonder and puts him in a death trap-- the sort of thing that practically begs a visit from the local constabulary.             

                                                

Instead, the Titans respond with a flanking attack, masquerading as ordinary bike-riders and talking Danny into getting them jobs at the Hive. The heroes don't do a really good job of staying undercover, since they use their special powers to stomp some nasty bikers who have nothing to do with the main story. (Note the bizarre headgear Nick Cardy gives to the bad bikers.) What's to keep any dropout loyal to Ding Dong from exposing the Titans to the villain?                         

                                                                                                                                              

  Nevertheless, the subterfuge works, in large part because the wig-wearing Wonder Girl distracts the maker of crime-cars by shaking her moneymaker for him in private. In jig time the heroes are able to expose Ding Dong's criminal nature to his student-employees, who are duly aghast at being involved in felonious doings. Ding Dong unleashes one last gimmick on the heroes-- a killer gas pump, of all things-- and then River City can go back to the status quo. I don't believe Ding Dong appeared again until the cartoon show, but he's a decent enough pattern-criminal, given a little novelty by the Roth caricature and by the fact that there aren't that many vehicle-themed villains.                                                                                                       

As I said, I'm not going to attempt an overview of even one of the TITANS periods, but I will note a few other curiosities in the Wacky Years. Beast Boy, who was a vital member of the super-group in the 1980s, only got one guest-appearance in the 1966-73 run, when he tried to join the Titans in issue #6. The main story's not very good, and the art by Bill Molno is subpar, but the page I reprint above does show writer Haney seeking to emulate a little of Marvel's "misunderstood hero" trope, which was on fuller display in DOOM PATROL, where the animal-imitating teen originated.  For good measure, the letters column for the issue contains one letter of no particular consequence from future pro Mark Evanier. Also, a continuity-minded fan asked the editors of TITANS if Wonder Girl would get phased out since she'd been written out of the WONDER WOMAN series by Robert Kanigher, which event I addressed here. The TITANS editors did not respond to the continuity confusion.     

                                                                                           
Finally, just for grins, here's a page from the first appearance of the Mad Mod, who got more than a little exposure on the TEEN TITANS cartoon show. Haney and Cardy introduced the character, whose raison d'etre had more to do with fashion-gimmicks than with mind-control-- and who was apparently Cockney, since he had the habit of dropping his "H's." Though I rather doubt that any Brit of any linguistic division went as far as Haney's depiction, since Mad Mod even laughs without the use of the "H-sound," going, "'Aw, 'Aw" or occasionally "'Ar, 'Ar."