Whereas your Unca Cheeks has Silver Age comic books all but falling out of his hemorrhoidal li'l hinder, here; I have yet (to date) to read or own so much as a single Golden Age MLJ/Radio Comics issue. I hang my head in grateful acknowledgment of the gentleman's scholarship.

Eye for detail like that: the man ought to be an editor.

(... and -- so long as we're about this whole "thankyouthankyou" business: similarly appreciative kudos to the eighteen or twenty of you, out there, who correctly identified longtime Silver Age Martian Manhunter artist Joe Certa as the uncredited penciler of the gape-

inducing JET DREAM AND HER STUNT-GIRL COUNTERSPIES, of a few weeks ago. Maybe I should just sit back and let all of you fellahs do these frickin' pages, from here on out.)

It seems to me that I recall promising you all a detailed explication of the origin of Silver Age Shield last week.

"The Origin of the Shield" [THE MIGHTY CRUSADERS #1; November, 1965; Jerry Siegel, author; Paul Reinmann (I think) penciler] provides us precisely that; as well as an informative (if fleeting) glimpse of his Golden Age predecessor, as well.

Let's see if I can keep from screwing this one up, at any rate.

As per Jeff Rovin's invaluable volume, THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SUPER-HEROES: "Joe [Higgins] is as boy when his father, Tom, an FBI investigator, is killed in an explosion. Before dying, the amateur chemist tells the boy about a secret formula he'd been working on, code-named SHIELD." (He's an "amateur chemist"... and he gives his fumbling basement concoctions code names? Ooookay. Whatever.)

"Joe comes to school and becomes a brilliant chemist -- "

[You can tell he's "brilliant," in that he, at least, hasn't blown himself up. Yet.]

" -- completing his father's formula and learning that SHIELD stands for Sacrum, Heart, Innervation, Eyes, Lungs and Derma. However, before he is able to get the formula into those portions of his anatomy, Joe learns from an agent the identity of his father's killer."

"Impulsively going after the man, Joe is beaten and left at the site of another explosion. Severely injured, he drags himself back to his laboratory [...] rubs it (the SHIELD formula) into his body, then dons a special suit containing 'a catalytic agent that, when bathed in fluoroscopic rays, will cause the formula to be absorbed.' " (... and I know I, for one, would be willing to pay Top Comics Dollar for a glimpse of the sequence in which this goober sets to briskly rubbing said super- liniment into his own "innervation," by golly. Easy to tell this was written before the onset of the Comics Code.)

"[...] Joe finds his genetic structure altered so that he possesses super-strength [...]; has the power to leap incredible distances; and is able to withstand both gunfire and temperatures up to 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. Symbolically 'jazzing up' the equally indestructible suit with a patriotic theme [...] he adopts the alter-ego of: the Shield."

Right. Okay. So, then: that's the colorful, energetic fellow you saw barreling his burly way into a crowd of no-goodniks, in the previous page reproduction. Big, bad Joe Higgins: the Golden Age Shield.

Apparently -- supremely dopey origin story notwithstanding -- the genial Joe has been quite the effective little crimebuster, overall; because we witness "a meeting of the kingpins of crime," during which a gaggle of gangland gunsels collectively pony up the moolah requisite to their hiring of an Extra Chunky paid assassin by the name of "the Eraser." [Again: see page reproductions, above and below]

I'm not necessarily saying this guy's fat, mind, now; just pointing out that [Pick One]:

A.) ... his first choice for a waycool super-villainous "code name" was: "the Mighty Lard Ass!"

B.) ... if they'd ever gotten around to shooting a film version of this saga, back in the '60's: they woulda signed William Conrad to play this guy.

C.) ... he "killed hisself a b'ar/ When he was only three"... and then ate it.

D.) ... he has a standing reward of $10,000 ready for anyone who can provide information leading to reliable confirmation of whether or not he actually has feet.

E.) ... lookit: the guy's just freakin' huuuuuuuuge, all right?

In any event: the Eraser manages to effect a faux communiqué from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, stating that the Shield is to meet a contact at "The Museum of Arch- Villains"; there to receive information "urgent to our nation's security!"

"I am the Eraser," the gargantuan gunsel informs Our Hero, lumbering his elephantine way out from the shadows. "... and you are a dead man!"

"A trap, eh?" the Shield sneers, by way of response. "Many have tried to destroy me! Be my guest!"

Illustrating the ages-old super-hero maxim that "Courtesy Kills, Dammit": the two-ton thugee elects to do precisely that, by means of (*gasp*) his fabulous "Metalor Ion-Gun."

Transforming the rather stiffly-posed Shield into "a non-living iron statue," the Eraser promptly calls it a career and quits the whole "This Gun For Hire" shebang.

"Since I can never top this achievement," he informs his most recent (and final) clients; "... I hereby retire!"

Okay... two quick observations, here:

1.) "Since I can never top this achievement"...? Geez louise, fellah: what's to "top" here, anyway? The guy all but begged you to take a "freebie" shot at him; and then just stood there -- rooted to the very spot -- while you struggled to extricate your "Metalor Ion-Whoozis" from that yard or three of coaxial cable you've been using to keep your friggin' pants up! And this is the crowning achievement of your criminal career, f'chrissakes? What have you been snuffing for the past umpty- whatever years, anyway: nuns? Blind people? Little baby bunnies, mebbe...?

2.) "The Museum of ARCH-VILLAINS" -- ?!?

It is a happy and contented gangland underworld, then, that goes about its wretched business with what surely must be a collective sigh of relief, now that the pesky, bothersome Shield is no longer around to play the spandexed fly, re: their villainous ointment...

... or: is he?

One thing's for certain, in any event: somebody's taken to be-bopping about in the present day, alongside all the other members (Fly-Man; Fly- Girl; the Comet; and the Black Hood) of the Mighty Crusaders; a red-headed, suqare-jawed "somebody" who bears more than a passing resemblance to a certain other red-white-and-blue super-type guy, in plain point of fact.

Quicker'n you can say "gimme my money back, Walrus-Butt!", the (now retired) Eraser is summoned to appear before a consternated council of the underworld elite.

"I don't know how the Shield can live again," the Wide-Load Wastrel confesses; "... but I have emerged from retirement to finish the job I botched... at no extra fee!"

"Just spread the word around" (he continues) "that there's a plot to steal the Statue of Liberty. [!!!] Once again, I'll lure the Shield into a death-trap!"

("... spread the word around"...?)

("... spread... the word... AROUND" --?)

(HOW, PRAY TELL, PRECISELY, DOES ONE PROPERLY SET ABOUT TO "SPREADING THE WORD AROUND" THAT "THERE"S A PLOT TO STEAL THE STATUE OF @#$%ING LIBERTY," ANYWAY?!? Huh? HUH?!? Just how does one decently do dat dere t'ing, anyhoo?

[SUPER-HERO (approaching his favorite "stoolie," from out of the nicotine'd mists of some seedy waterfront dive): "Fast Eddie. Talk to me, snitch. What's the word been on the streets, these past few days...?"

[FAST EDDIE (from the side of his mouth; never looking up from the "Shirley Temple" he's been sullenly nursing all evening): Well, now.. lemme see if I can recollect a mite, Mister SOOOOper HEEEEroh... "Fingers" Finnegan is layin' low over on "B" Street, after dat last big bank job...

[The Super-Hero nods once, silently; Fast Eddie goes on.

[FAST EDDIE (continuing): Hmmmm... now that I pauses to consider it: I t'ink I hoid somet'in 'bout your old arch-enemy, Doctor Suppository, hirin' hisself some out-of-town muscle for anudder one o' his 'revenge schemes' 'gainst you...

[The Super-Hero nods again; a thin, humorless smile creasing his movie matinee idol features.

[SUPER-HERO (approvingly): "You've done good, Eddie. Looks like you've bought yourself another quiet evening, then; one without any broken bones or assorted asswhuppings.

[FAST EDDIE (snapping his fingers in sudden recollection): Oh, yeah! I almost forgot! Dere's a plot t'steal da Statue of Liberty!

[There is a long, elastic moment of silence, then; as the Super-Hero stares wordlessly at his idiotically beaming underworld informant...

[... and then: the former whips out a Glock from somewhere within the voluminous folds of his night-ebon cape... and promptly blows the latter's head right off his shoulders, at point-blank range.

[SUPER-HERO (sarcastically): " '... a plot to steal the Statue of Liberty.' Riiiiight. Dickweed."]

Well... be that as it may: said "word" is, in fact, disseminated throughout the lower underworld ranks; and the Eraser does find himself squaring off, once again, versus a maddeningly familiar star- spangled sentinel.

"I developed the Space-Warpine especially for you, old foe!" the Eraser snarls; lobbing a particularly ludicrous-looking frammistat in the Shield's general direction.

"I've got something for you, too, old shmoe!" the Patriotic Paladin quips, by way of reply. "Namely, a kick in the slats! SKAT, rat!"

"C-Can't s-stop from falling into my own ghastly trap!" said rat squeals, falling into his own ghastly trap. "YIIIIII -- !!"

"He's puffing out of existence," the Shield observes, as both hitman and hyper-device vanish in a shoddily-rendered coruscation of other-worldly energies. "... and so is that deadly gadget! Its ray transported him to some place that's probably light-years away from Earth!"

Retiring, then, to the shadowy confines of his super-secret "cavern sanctum," the Shield pays silent homage to a life-sized metal statue of... himself (?!?).

"No one knows the Shield had a son," the modern-day myrmidon muses; "... and that now I've grown to manhood, I am carrying on your career in the great tradition you established!" (Allowing yourself to be super-simonized for life by a tutu-sheathed Orson Welles is "establishing a great tradition"...?)

Verily, then: t'is a silly origin.

Let's see if the perpetually grim-visaged Black Hood can do any better, shall we...?

"While on his night beat" (so sayeth the ever-reliable Rovin) "[patrolman] Kip Burland comes across a skeleton robbing a mansion. Before the officer can react, the costumed robber (named the Skull) slugs him unconscious; plants some of the jewelry in his hand; and blows Burland's whistle before running off." (Boy... there's a euphemism I'd never heard before, by golly...!)

(Incidentally: have fun comparing the accompanying Golden Age origin recital with the '60s-rendered Silver Age version, in the page reproductions immediately following. The details differ, here and there... but: the baseline particulars all seem pretty much the same, by and large.)

"Burland is arrested for the crime and stripped of his badge, Nonetheless, as soon as he is released on bail, he goes after the real criminal." (That would be ARCHIE Comics publisher John L. Goldwater, to my way of thinking; but, then... I'm not the fellah so mind-bogglingly secure in his own masculinity that he elects to gad about town in lemon custard-y Underoos, neither. So: there you have it, then.)

"Unfortunately: he finds him... and this time gets shot and tossed from a car. Discovered by a hermit, Burland is nursed to health over a period of several months, during which time he learns that his savior was once the local sheriff, who was also framed by the Skull."

(Five silver dollars to the first woman or man who can convincingly explain to a much-befuddled Unca Cheeks why a self-proclaimed "hermit" might reasonably be wandering the nighttime city streets of a major urban metropolis in the first place.)

"Together, the men build Burland's mind and body to physical perfection. They also make him a costume, so that Burland can move about disguised as the avenging Black Hood." (Gaunt, hag- ridden and obsessive urban vigilantes being far, far more inherently inconspicuous than some guy in a nice pair of Dockers... right?)

Okay... so: what we're dealing with here (obviously) is a simple case of "Batman Lite," then. (Sample dialogue from one of the Hood's gloomy "solo" adventure outtings, by way of corroborative evidence: " [...] the very Fates are gloating over the dark destiny inflicted upon me by the fiend who walks like a man: Bulgy-Eyes!")

(I said "Batman Lite." You never heard me say so much as Word One to the effect that we were talkin' "Batman Good," here.)

The few (largely cosmetic) alterations made in the overall "cut" in the jib of the origin, betwixt 1940 and 1965, seem rather more calculated to precisely that end: allowing the ARCHIE/Radio Comics group, in general (and "the Mighty Crusaders," in particular) to have their (quasi-) Bruce Wayne, and... ummmmm... "eat it," too.

(Geez... don't you just hate watching a perfectly good metaphor wheeze; stagger; and drop stone dead in its traces like that...?)

Since I do not, alas, possess anything like a full and complete run of the "super-hero" ARCHIE comics of the day, as of this writing; I'm going to leave this particular "chapter" in the discussion of same with a handful of questions for anyone out there more knowledgable on the subject than myself to answer, via e-mail, for the enjoyment of the readership as a whole.

Here we go, then:

1.) When; where; how; and (for God's sake) why did the Black Hood shift from "the world's fastest motorcycle" [see panel reproduction, above] to that dopey, two-bit flying mechanical horsey of his, anyway...?

2.) Concerning one of our characters from a previous page: none of the '60s comics I have ever show Fly-Man actually unholstering that wicked-looking firearm affixed to his belt. Just what in the name of Annie Oakley did that blody thing DO, anyway...?

3.) Go back and check out the page reproduction entitled "The Fly-Man's Ultra-Pals," as utilized in the Shield entry, above.

Notice how the character simply... appears in the last panel; all of a sudden, like...?

This was something repeatedly referenced in various and sundry MIGHTY CRUSADERS stories: the somewhat disconcerting (to the rest of his spandexed fellows, at least) fact that ARCHIE's starred-and-striped sledgehammer would frequently just... wink into existence, whenever one of his aforementioned teammates happened to need him most desperately.

Was this ever explained, in the body of any SHIELD or MIGHTY CRUSADERS tale...?

Coming up next: a quick gander at my all-time favoritest character from the ARCHIE super-hero stable of the 1960s.

Ohhhhhhhh, baby! Is this next one ever gonna generate its fair share of e-mail...

... and then some.

The Mighty Crusaders
The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE ONE

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE TWO

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE FOUR

The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE FIVE
The Archie Comics MIGHTY CRUSADERS of the 1960s: PAGE SIX

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