Please see last’s week part one.

Although closeted in the interim report of the 1954 comic book hearings, race was not an issue that America really wanted to deal with and perhaps that above all is why race had been given little more than a nod in the hearing.

Race was however one of the major reasons that 2.5 million black Americans registered for the draft between 1941-45. Hoping that by helping their country win the war the United States would at last make the “Four Freedoms” a real part of their lives and not something they had to aspire too. Freedom of speech and religion, freedom from want and fear were offered to every American by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in one of the greatest speeches in the history of the United States of America.

Black people were well aware that those freedoms were not being offered to us, not without some serious mind changing by many in the country. Enlisting and fighting in World War II was going to change those minds that at least what a great many black people believed or wanted to believe. During WW II Japanese propaganda ridiculed America’s so called great society by pointing out the hypocrisy that existed therein. They pointed to the exclusion of black players from baseball, the national past time, as proof of that hypocrisy.

And they were right.

The great society that was America where “all man are created equal” and where “land of the free, home of the brave” originated was anything but to black people in the United States. Other American ideals such as opportunity, rights, liberty, democracy and equality were a rallying cry from America to the world. Baseball has been the national pastime almost since the first ball was thrown out at the first game. Nothing says America like Baseball.

Japan’s propaganda aside, WW II saw the best of America. The war produced many heroes and many more books and films based on those heroes which trilled the American public.

During World War II there were plenty of black heroes, but even today those heroes are slow to be recognized. As late as 1993 there were no black Medal of Honor recipients. That was rectified in 1997 when Bill Clinton awarded the medal to seven African American World War II veterans. This only after an Army commissioned study that showed clear racial discrimination in the awarding of medals.

Perhaps with an acknowledged black hero from the war the civil rights struggle would have been given the push that could have garnered patriotic pride in the county. That push may have given way to needed awareness that blacks were just as American as the next guy. Unfortunately, the war was not to be the event that would level the playing field for black people.

Perhaps the playing field needed to be an actual field.

Baseball had that black hero that would be recognized. Hell, he had no choice but to be recognized. He was the only black man playing in the major leagues.

That hero would be Jackie Robinson and 2012 marks the 50^th anniversary of Jackie’s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Jackie Robinson was the first black player to play professional baseball.

Wrong. If you believed Jackie Robinson was the first black player to play professional baseball, and after Robinson it was easy for blacks in the majors, then you are in for a bit of a surprise.

In 1867, just two years after the end of the Civil War, organized baseball made its first attempt to ban blacks. The National Association of Baseball Players refused to allow an all black team from Philadelphia to join the league.

In what was the brave new world of Post Civil War America it’s puzzling (at least it is in retrospect) that the great state of Pennsylvania where the railroad system, iron and steel industry, and its vast agricultural wealth contributed greatly in the North’s victory did not protest this snub.

Maybe, now that I think of it, it’s not so puzzling after all since there are currently some funny voter restrictions going on in the once great state of Pennsylvania. But (Peter, I love you dude) I digress…

Bud Flower is the first known professional black baseball player. He played on an integrated team in 1878. During the next twenty-five years, more than 50 blacks managed to play on white teams and John ‘Bud’ Fowler was the first when he joined a white professional team in New Castle, Pennsylvania in 1878.

Being able to “play” was clearly a double edge sword.

Making a living as a black man playing a game must have surly been a dream come true in an era when having a career and not just a job was a dream realized by very few in the days following the Civil War. To many, having any income and not just trying to live off the land was a godsend.

However, post Civil War America after blacks were freed was anything but the Promised Land that blacks thought it would be.

In the south, lynching black people was not only a possibility but in some areas it was an assurance. Blacks had little to protect themselves with while playing a game that was ripe with racism and danger for most if not all of them. Some players made it a habit to carry a bible as a way to comfort them. It’s not known if Bud carried a bible, however, what is known is Bud is credited with inventing the first shin guards. White players were spiking him so often that he began to tape pieces of wood to his legs to protect himself.

Religion to many African American slaves was sometimes the only saving grace that could be embraced with little fear of outrage from their masters, when freed, African Americans continued to embrace their faith for the strength they would need facing Jim Crow America.

Upon his entrance to the game many blacks considered Jackie Robinson a savior of sorts. Jackie’s arrival on the world stage, lifting them out of the bondage of separate but clearly unequal treatment at least in baseball.

Jackie Robinson was the first black player in the modern age. The end of the golden age of radio and the advent of the age of television helped usher in this ebony knight in shining armor. Much like the early days of baseball, an African American making a living in the beginning of the comic book or related industries would have been a dream come true.

What, pry tell does this have to do with comics?

This…

Baseball, with its barriers to entries, talent, skill and perseverance to name but a few mirrored the comic book business regarding race. Baseball has moved on and so has comics but there still exists a great many who think those obstacles are still in full effect for blacks in comics.

America during the 50s and Jackie Robinson’s story is a perfect parallel for African Americans in the comic book industry even today.

Too many fans of the great American pastime there was nothing more offensive than a Negro ball player. When Jackie broke the color barrier in 1947 there were organized revolts around the country as well as within baseball. By 1954 Jackie had pretty much won over baseball fans and a great many Americans. In spite of the fact that victory was being waged and won on the baseball field, African Americans were still fighting on many other fronts.

Some of those battles were public, a great many more private and some in utter secretly.

Like Jackie Robinson and his journey but deep in the background so far off the radar of anyone black or white was the battle over blacks in comic books. Utter secretly may even be an understatement. It’s safe to say that in 1954 people concerned about civil rights be they black or white were not giving any thought to comic books as a tool for social change.

Except there were a few people in comics who were fighting the very fight that Branch Rickey had fought for Jackie Robinson. At the forefront of that battle in 1956 was the two-year old Comics Code Authority on one side and EC Comics on the other.

The Code tried its best to stop EC from publishing a particularly offensive (to them) comic book. The book they were trying to stop was an issue of Incredible Science Fiction the story was called “Judgment Day.”

What was objected to was not a gory scene of a space monster under orders from a criminal ripping to pieces an earth girl who, clad in scant bra and panties was an obvious sexual tease for young 50s era boys.

What was objected to was the main character, an astronaut, was revealed on the last page in the last panel to be a black man.

Perhaps they wanted to see his birth certificate…

End Part 2. Continued next week.

WEDNESDAY: Mike Gold, Doctor Who, and What?

I haven’t talked about Deadpool around here for, oh, say, two whole minutes, right? Time to rectify that!

You know why Deadpool’s my favorite character in the whole wide world of comics? Well, actually, there are several reasons, but one of them is that no matter how dark the character gets, there is also levity there. And call me grandiose, comparing the adventures of a wisecracking merc to the daily toil of Real Life, but really – that can be a true reflection of what we experience. In the depths of disaster sometimes we just have to laugh (possibly inappropriately), and in the midst of our merriment, suddenly one little sentence may bring the room down. That’s life – a perfectly imperfect mix of random ups and downs.

What’s important about the often unexpected comical moments is that they remind us that it’s not all doom and gloom out there, even when sometimes it’s been feeling like it is. And if we don’t get enough laughter in our lives, I fear some of us might turn into this guy. As I’m sure everyone knows, Joe Kubert passed away a few days ago. I didn’t know Joe personally, but I know and like some of his work; and I had a nice chat with one of his sons at a con; and I know several artist friends who have gone to his school (in my home state of New Jersey, no less, which makes it extra-cool). All in all, I’ve never had a bad thought about him, and admire him as much as I do any of the other Greats in comics (yes, he most certainly was one of the Greats, with a capital G). But even if for some reason I hadn’t been a fan, or even if I hated his art (which I don’t), I’d never, ever, have posted something like what that supposed fan of comics said; and then failed at properly apologizing for such insensitive and offensive comments.

The comparison that was made is just inexcusable, and Mike Romo has a good discussion of that at the iFanboy link, so I will not rehash it all here. But I will say that as a fan, I am continuously disappointed in other fans who turn their dislike of a piece of creative work into a giant, seething, pulsating ball of wrath and disgust, to be lobbed at creators and fandom and the internet so we can all experience the pus and bile of some fan’s misplaced sense of entitlement as it oozes down our screens.

Okay, that metaphor was disgusting. But then, I feel disgusted when I read shit like that. And it really does all boil down to entitlement – fans who think that their hateful view of whatever-it-is is more important than the fact that they are throwing vile words or accusations at a Real, Live Person who most likely doesn’t deserve them. A person whom they might even have admired at some point (or still do admire). Likening an upstanding and recently deceased comics creator who worked on a comic you don’t think should have been made (Before Watchmen) to a man who failed to report child sexual abuse is an extreme example, of course, but still; this isn’t anywhere near the first time I’ve seen this kind of disproportionate hatred towards someone whose only fault was making a creative work someone else didn’t enjoy.

Look, I’m not saying we can’t critique what we don’t like. I’m a true believer in the importance of free speech and discussion. But that also means that if you’re being an asshole on the internet or in fandom, I have a free speech right to call you out for being an asshole. And calling hardworking people who make their living making comics “known hacks” or “scab artists” because you don’t like their work or work choices is being an asshole. [See also: anyone who’s ever said so-and-so “raped their childhood.” Because using the word “rape” in that context is another form of entitlement; in which the user assumes it is more important to dramatically emphasize their disappointment in Prometheus than to not casually throw around a word that has terrible connotations for over 17.7 million women and 2.78 million men in America alone. Plus, I just hate that phrase.]

But I digress. Neil Gaiman once wrote a fantastic journal entry on entitlement issues which I think every fan ought to read and re-read. In fact, if someone ever wrote a computer program in which that entry popped up every time some entitled asshole was about to hit “post” on a needlessly vitriolic diatribe about creative works and people they hate, I’d be ecstatic. (Seriously, hackers – stop making useless pop-up viruses and get on that.)* But since that’s not the case as yet, I’d also be happier if we all just read that entry, and tried to remember before hitting post that creators are real people with real feelings and families and needs to put food on the table and all of that. And that it’s probably not necessary to wear a t-shirt saying a real person sucks just because you didn’t like a movie about aliens.

Maybe we could also just run a little test in our heads, similar to the one I wish misogynists would use before speaking (“How would you feel if someone said or did that to your mom/sister/favorite female person in the whole world? Or to you?”) in which we think about how we’d feel if someone likened, say, our dad or our best friend to a guy who ignored reports of child molestation. I’m pretty sure for most of us, that would make us remember that it’s not all about us, and hit the delete key before doing something asinine. So maybe we can all give that some thought before posting something so unwarrantedly hostile about what is, as Romo said, “just comics” (and other pop culture).

Or, as the LOLcats would say: we can fan moar better; and then maybe instead of encountering so much petty bitching, we will instead be rewarded with more things that remind us that life is not all doom and gloom – like this and this. (You’re welcome.)

So until next time, Servo Lectio!

* Disclaimer: I am not actually encouraging anyone to hack anything. Please do not go and do this and then say it’s all my fault, hackers. Thank you.

TUESDAY AFTERNOON: Michael Davis’ Milestones, part two

WEDNESDAY MORNING: Mike Gold, Who Do That VooDoo?

Before I get started – or let’s pretend that I have just stopped time – just want to say regarding Martha Thomases’ column of last week:

Shit, Martha, why the fuck didn’t I think of writing that?

•     •     •     •     •

See, about two months ago I hurt my middle finger at work. It got caught between a stretcher and a door. The noted and very adorable Dr. Christopher Doumas used the C-arm to check it out. Nothing was broken – be thankful for small miracles, right? – but there was plenty of soft tissue damage, meaning I bruised the fascia, muscles, tendons, and ligaments. Plus broken capillaries and such. Which caused my ahem middle finger to swell up and turn several shades of purple.

But you know how they say that soft tissue damage hurts worse than a broken bone? – well, maybe you don’t, but trust me, they do say that – so believe me when I tell you:

Goddamn, it hurt!

Anyway, I had to write an incident report, which meant I had to go to the boss’s office. The boss is from the Midwest, and, imho, the outfit that owns my ambulatory surgery center reflects that what’s the matter with Kansas? mentality. So I’m sitting there trying to write, which was extremely difficult because said middle finger was on my right hand, and I’m a “righty” – the only thing about me that is.

Just trying to use the keyboard was a pain in the ass – or finger – and I muttered “Fuck, that hurts.”

My what’s the matter with Kansas? boss looked very disturbed. Did she say, “I’m so sorry, Mindy.” Did she say, “Do you want an Advil?” Did she cluck and coo and offer other bromides?

Nope.

She said, “Don’t use that language. It’s not professional.”

I looked at her. I thought are you kidding me?

And I said:

“I’m from New York.”

•     •     •     •     •

I will now allow time to resume its normal linear course.

I have always, always loved time-travel stories.

Last night I was watching The Timey-Wimey Of Doctor Who on BBC America when, all of a sudden during a commercial break, I remembered a Silver Age Superboy story in which the Boy of Steel discovers the origin of Cinderella’s glass slipper – all of which inspired me to write about time travel today. Anyway, I was sure the Cinderella story was featured on the cover. But guess what I discovered when doing my due diligence?

The Cinderella thingy was only a “side-trip” in a very famous and critical-to-DC-mythology story written by Robert Bernstein and penciled and inked by George Pepp. The story was “Superboy’s Big Brother” (Superboy #89, June 1961), featuring the introduction of Mon-El – whom I’ve also always loved, but that’s a topic for another day and another column. Leaving Mon-El to hang out at the Kent home with his parents, Clark goes to school ‘cause he has a test he can’t skip. I guess it was an English class, or maybe history, or maybe even creative writing because one of the questions on the test is about the origin of fairy tales and uses the Cinderella story as an example.  Clark remembers meeting the real Cinderella in the past. I guess to jog his memory – although since Superboy has super-memory I don’t know why it needs jogging – he decides to revisit the past to make sure he’s got the details right.

Clark asks permission to get a drink of water. (The teacher says okay, which means allowing him to leave the room during a test. Try doing that these days, kids!) Changing into Superboy, he flies through the time barrier to Egypt, circa 4,000 B.C. He takes a drink of water from the Nile – ‘cause, you know Superboy never tells a lie, and this way he can honestly tell the teacher that he got his drink of water. While getting his allotment of H₂O, he sees an eagle steal a sandal from a girl putting a bassinet made from reeds into the Nile. There’s a baby inside. It floats down the Nile to where the Pharaoh’s daughter is bathing. The Pharaoh’s daughter finds the baby in the bassinette, and names him Moses….

Strike that.

Superboy is about to go after the eagle when that super-memory of his is jogged once again, so he does nothing. Instead he watches as the bird drops the sandal in the Pharaoh’s palace. The Pharaoh searches for the woman whose foot fits the sandal. He finds her and makes her his queen. Aha! thinks Superboy. This is the Cinderella story he came back in time to see. Now it’s time to go back to school and finish that test.

So Clark writes up the story, but the teacher says he has no proof, so only gives him an 89. (Guess it wasn’t a creative writing class after all.) And Clark isn’t unhappy, because if he had aced it, the teacher might suspect he’s Superboy because Clark is so smart. (Huh?)

Meanwhile, suspecting that Mon-El is lying about being his brother – um, excuse me, but aren’t you the one who assumed that he was, Clark? – Superboy exposes Mon-El to a meteorite that looks like Kryptonite but is really made of lead.

Oops. Your bad, Superboy.

Mon-El is really Lar Gand, a native of the planet Daxam. And Daxamites can’t handle lead. In fact, it kills them. Like the Roach Motel: once they check in, they don’t check out. Swearing that one day he will find a cure to the fatal lead poisoning, Superboy has no choice but to send Mon-El to the Phantom Zone in order to save his life.

Leading in a timey-winey, butterfly effect way to the other time travel story that added-to-the-DC-mythology big time, the introduction of the Legion of Super-Heroes (Adventure Comics #247, April 1958, by writer Otto Binder and artist Al Plastino). And if I have to recount that story, you shouldn’t call yourself a comics fan! J The Legion traveled through the time barrier by means of a “time bubble,” which maybe was inspired by the bubble in which Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, travels to Oz. Only they don’t ask Superboy if he is a witch. They also don’t think Krypto is a witch.

It was Brainiac 5 of the Legion of Super-Heroes who, in “The Secret of the Mystery Legionnaire” revealed that he had discovered a permanent cure for Mon-El. This happened in Adventure Comics #330, March 1962, by Jerry Siegel and John Forte. This is only a year for us poor Earth-Prime Homo sapiens who are cursed to experience time in a this-way-forward linear manner, but it was about twenty centuries as a phantom for poor Lar Gand.

No wonder he went nuts.

TUESDAY MORNING: Emily S. Whitten, Esq

TUESDAY AFTERNOON: Michael Davis, PhD