The Old Castle's Secret

Scrooge McDuck first appeared in a 1947 story titled "Christmas on Bear Mountain," written and drawn by the great Carl Barks. And I've just realized--now that I think about it--that I'm not sure if Barks had plans to bring Uncle Scrooge back for more appearances at that time, or if it just turned out that way.

Because whether Barks had realized it or not, he had created someone who would evolve into the greatest comic book character of all time. It would take awhile for Scrooge to fully develop his unique personality, but he'd get there eventually.

If nothing else, Scrooge proved to be an effective plot device to thrust Donald and the nephews into adventures. Scrooge's second appearance was in Four Color #189 (June 1948) in "The Old Castle's Secret," in which the rich water fowl does indeed get the boys into trouble.

To be fair, he does go along with them and share in the trouble. It seems Scrooge is on the verge of bankruptcy. (Barks hadn't come up with the concept of the Money Bin yet.) But there's hope. There's a treasure hidden in his ancestral castle in Scotland. Scrooge plans on bringing the boys to help him out as he scans the walls with an X-ray machine to find the treasure.

Of course, they'll all have to take care to avoid or fend off the ghost that haunts the castle.

This leads to the sort of delightful adventure that is representative of Carl Barks' storytelling genius. While Donald and Scrooge take turns panicking over apparently supernatural shenanigans, the three nephews keep their heads. When the Ducks are trapped on a balcony, it's the nephews who come up with a clever escape plan. When the boys are trapped outside the castle, they deduce the location of a secret tunnel that gets them back in. When they encounter the ghost--who is alternately either completely invisible or shows the shadow a skeleton against the wall, they... well, mostly they run. But eventually they gain the upper hand, catch the "ghost" and find the treasure.



Barks does here what he did in other Donald and/or Uncle Scrooge tales: He combines visual gags and slapstick humor with a strong "realistic" plot. This time around, he combines elements of a detective story with those of a horror story. This is combined with his clean and appealing visual artistry to turn "The Old Castle's Secret" into something very unique.

Scrooge McDuck hasn't yet developed the personality traits that would soon turn him into a comic book character whose pure awesomeness makes Batman cry and Wolverine beg for mercy. This time around, he allows the nephews to carry the bulk of the action. But it won't be long before he becomes awesome in his own right and--in the meantime--we'll still have enormous fun hanging out with him.

Cover Cavalcade

Friday's Favorite OTR

Suspense: "Death on Highway 99" 10/4/45


The most inept murderer in the history of crime watches as his plans to get away scot free slowly disintegrate. What makes this episode work is that we are warned right at the beginning that the killer has been incompetent at covering his tracks--so the fun comes from learning exactly how justice catches up to him.

Click HERE to listen or download.

Murder by Mold

When I was a wee little one, Pyramid Books was publishing paperback reprints of the original Shadow novels. It was these novels that served as my introduction to the coolest of the cool pulp characters.

About the same time, The Warner Paperback Library was reprinting most of the original Avenger novels,

with author Ron Goulart then commissioned to continue the series. But I didn’t get around to reading these until a few years later, when I picked a few of them up at a used book store.

And I’m glad I did, because the Avenger stories nearly rival the Shadow’s adventures in pure Rule of Cool. I reviewed the December 1939 issue not long ago, in which Richard Benson and the rest of Justice Inc clean up a corrupt town. But Benson doesn’t just deal with common thugs and organized crime. Like the Shadow, he’ll have to deal with a more science-fictiony threat from time to time.

In the January 1940 issue, for instance, Benson took on “The Frosted Death.” This is a man-made plague, accidentally unleashed on New York City by an amoral scientist. The plague is actually a mold that is passed from person to person by touch. It then spreads across your entire skin, making it look like you are covered with a light snow, but eventually suffocating you.

It’s an unpleasant and scary way to die, giving the story a large dollop of suspense right from the first page. But the villain ups the ante when he frames his business partner for both murder and for releasing the plague, while he uses slave labor in a secret lab to produce enough of the deadly stuff to sell to a foreign power.

The foreign power, by the way, is unnamed, but is obviously meant to be Germany. This was actually very common in popular fiction in all media during the early years of World War II. Though America wasn’t in the fight yet, many writers recognized Nazi Germany to be pure evil.  But isolationist feelings ran deep in many Americans before Pearl Harbor. This made many publishers, editors and filmmakers nervous about directly using the Nazis as villains in fiction. So many writers used spies or invaders who were Nazis in all but name. Milt Caniff did this (with both the Japanese and the Germans) in the comic strip Terry and the Pirates, while faux-Germans turned up in several “Adventures of Superman” story arcs on radio. Paul Ernst (who wrote the Avenger stories under the house name Kenneth Robeson) pulls the same trick here.  

[There are, by the way, several examples of storytellers who did directly reference the Nazis as villains before we entered the war. The Three Stooges, Charlie Chaplin, a number of Warner Brothers films and Timely (later Marvel) Comics all took overt shots at Hitler’s thugs prior to Pearl Harbor.]

Anyway, back to “The Frosted Death.” It doesn’t take long for Benson to deduce who the real villain is, but the main problem is destroying the stockpile of the deadly mold before the Nazis get it AND finding a cure as the horrible stuff spreads across New York.

Well, one of Benson’s men—Fergus MacMurdie—is the world’s foremost chemist. He soon whips up a cure. But he and Josh Newton (another Justice Inc operative) are captured by the Nazis along with the only samples of the cure.

In the meantime, Benson uses his mastery of disguise to replace a Nazi thug and locate the secret lab. But he soon discovers that he’s going to have to multi-task. Not only does he need to destroy the mold, he also has to rescue Mac and Josh, recover the cure, scuttle a U-boat and somehow outwit or outfight a score of heavily-armed Nazis.

I already mentioned that the story’s basic premise generates a lot of suspense. This is amped up to Eleven in the climax. Paul Ernst was a skilled pulp writer, with a strong understanding of how to tell a story clearly while still injected one exciting action set piece after another. He plops Benson down into one seemingly hopeless situation after another, but the Avenger is always one step ahead of the bad guys.

In the end, I do think the Shadow edges out both the Avenger and Doc Savage in pure coolness, but it really is a close call. “The Frosted Death” is unquestionably in the top-tier of the many entertaining stories produced during the Golden Age of the pulps.

A Legion-Full of Heroes

It took a little while to work out the continuity for the Legion of Super Heros. In their initial appearance in Adventure Comics #247 (April 1958), they were from the 30th Century. This story was written by Otto

Binder, in which several Legionnaires travel back in time to meet Superboy (their inspiration) and bring him into the future to join the Legion.

A few of their subsequent early appearances had them coming from the 21st Century, which is kind of annoying since we are now in the 21st Century in real life and we don't have a Legion of Super Heroes yet. Gosh darn it. But before long the writers settled on 1000 years in the future.

Their third appearance was in a Jerry Siegel-penned story from Action Comics #267 (August 1960), in which they invite Supergirl to join the Legion. Here's where continuity becomes weird. As with Superboy, the visiting Legionnaires were Lightning Lad, Saturn Girl and Cosmic Boy. But they claimed to be the children of the Legionnaires who met Superboy years before.

Well, eventually, the creative staff at DC realized that with time travel, there was no need for this generational shift. So the whole "children of the original Legion" thing was conveniently ignored, allowing Superboy and Supergirl to work together in the 30th Century despite living a generation apart in the 20th Century. Both heroes would occasionally travel forward in time to serve as concurrent members of the futuristic team. That's why Time Travel is awesome.

It also resulted in one of my favorite bits of comic book logic. If Superboy meets Supergirl when he's Superboy, why doesn't Superman remember Supergirl when he "firsts" meets her as Superman?

That's easily solved. Saturn Girl, whose powers involve telepathy and mental control, plants a post-hypnotic suggestion in Superboy to cause him to forget anything he learns about his own personal history whenever he returns to the 20th Century. Nothing could be simpler. Although that must have been annoying for Superboy whenever he got back to Smallville. He'd know why he couldn't remember everything, of course, but wouldn't it drive you kind of nuts wondering exactly what you can't remember about your own future?

The futuristic setting for the LSH stories had a major advantage for Mort Weisinger and his writers. With a full millenium separating the Legion from the rest of the DC Universe, it could progress according to its own continuity. That gave it a freedom the mainstream universe didn't have. Heroes could actually get killed and relationships between characters could progress without having to preserve a status qou. The Legion eventually become a rich and more malleable sub-universe, separate but still connected to the main DC Universe.

Eventually, Edmond Hamilton became the primary Legion writer. A master of comic book logic, he was key in developing the Legion's mythology and using it effectively to tell fun stories.

For instance, Adventure Comics #309 (June 1963) pits the Legion against the Legion of Super Monsters. A guy who can control animals is rejected by the Legion when he applies for membership. In a snit because of this, he uses his powers to recruit a squad of monsters with bizarre powers, then goes on a crime spree. The Legion confronts him, but he and his monsters put up a good fight. Chameleon Boy impersonates one of the monsters to infiltrate the enemy camp, but that plan goes awry. Bouncing Boy (despite his silly seeming

power) surprises everyone by taking out a powerful Earthquake Beast. The story ends with a nice bit of irony: the villain, embittered when rejected by the Legion, is done in by a monster he himself rejected earlier in the story.

Mixed in with these purely entertaining bits of escapism were a surprising number of more mature stories about death and self-sacrifice. For example, Adventure Comics #342 (March 1966) is a great story involving Star Boy, who is forced to kill a villain in self-defense. He's cleared by the cops, but the Legion has a code against ever killing. The presumption is that Legionnaires should be able to use their powers creatively and avoid deadly force. So Star Boy is placed on trial within the Legion to debate whether he should be thrown out. The story isn't perfect--Superboy is Star Boy's defense attorney and his attempts to get his client acquitted are laughably ineffectual. But some of the debate over whether a superhero should be allowed to kill is quite thoughtful.

It just goes to prove that if you mix together time travel with superhero shenanigans, drop in the proper amount of comic book logic, and add just a dollop or two of real emotion to the usual Silver Age innocence, then you really can't go wrong.

We're almost done with our look at the Weisinger-era Superman universe. I'm pretty sure we've covered nearly all the subjects I originally intended to cover. All that remains is a peek at Lois Lane and Turtle Boy... er, I mean Jimmy Olsen.. and we'll be done.

Cover Cavalcade

I'm not sure how you can possibly get yourself into a mess like this in the first place.

Dell and Gold Key on Facebook

Here's a new Facebook group for fans of Dell and Gold Key comics:

Dell Comics & Gold Key Comics: An Appreciation

Friday's Favorite OTR

Philo Vance: "The Idol Murder Case" 1/25/49


Several art collectors are desperate to obtain a rare idol being displayed at the city museum. The question for Philo Vance is which one was desperate enough to commit murder?

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Enslaved by Giant Ants

Read/Watch 'em In Order #36


Planet of Peril, by Otis Adelbert Kline, was serialized in Argosy All-Story Weekly in 1929, so it was the first of his sword-and-planet adventures to see print.

But chronologically it comes after the two Mars books as it moves the action to Venus. Dr. Richard Morgan has sent several men to ancient Mars via a mind-swap technique. Then he sent his nephew to Mars in a space-time ship.

He's having difficulty building a new ship, so--after establishing telepathic contact with Venus as it existed millions of years ago--he sets up another couple of mind swaps.

Robert Grandon--a former soldier who's now bored with his life--is recruited to make the jump to Venus. Also, Harry Thorne--or rather the Martian guy in Harry Thorne's body after they swapped bodies in The Swordsman of Mars--makes the trip as well. The two end up on different sides of Venus, so "Harry" only as a brief role in this novel, but he'll get to play hero the next time out.

In the meantime, Grandon finds himself in the body of a guy sentenced to slavery in a mine because he once hit on Vernia, ruler of the powerful kingdom of Reabon. Which is ironic, because Grandon and Vernia will end up in love with one another well before the novel ends.

It's a rather unusual romance, because Grandon soon escapes from the mines and, after learning the language, soon finds himself leading a rebel army in the small country of  Uxpo, fighting to win their freedom from Reabon. That should make he and Vernia mortal enemies, but political intrigue changes the situation dramatically. Vernia's evil cousin is planning to usurp her throne, so arranges for her to be kidnapped by her own bodyguard. Shenanigans ensue, resulting in Grandon and Vernia on the run together.

Eventually, they end up in a remote valley where humans are enslaved by giant, intelligent ants called sabits. So a big chunk of the novel involves Grandon organizing yet another rebellion to free the humans from the sabits. After this is resolved, Vernia gets captured by her evil cousin. Grandon thinks she's dead and returns to lead the Uxpo rebel army once more. More shenanigans ensue, resulting a really cool battle sequence when the rebels attack a castle in tandem with cavalry riding giant ants.

It's all a lot of fun. Kline doesn't hesitate to use (and once or twice overuse) coincidence to move the plot along, but he handles the action scenes well; Kline gives us a nice mix of epic battles, smaller brawls and fights with the bizarre monsters that roam the Venusian landscape. He also manages to slip in several unexpected and interesting story arcs involving a couple of the supporting characters.

Vernia's a strong female lead, keeping her head in dangerous situations and outsmarting the bad guy at the denouement. In fact, it's a strength of the book that Grandon and Vernia can't just fight their way out of dangerous situations, but have to use their brains as well. Both have opportunity to come up with clever plans.

And, heck, the novel includes human cavalry riding giant ants. You really can't go wrong with that.

The coolest vampire hunter this side of Peter Cushing

A few months ago, I wrote about Marvel's Tomb of Dracula comic from the 1970s--a series that numbered among its strengths a truly epic cast of vampire hunters.

It was with the pages of ToD, for instance, that we first met Blade the Vampire Slayer.  In his original incarnation, he hunted vampires armed with a bandoleer of wooden throwing knives. His M.O. has since evolved over the years--which is a tragedy. Because the idea of taking out vampires in hand-to-hand combat with wooden knives is astonishingly, breathtakingly, and majestically awesome. No other variation of the character has ever come close to being as cool.

It was in a black-and-white magazine called Marvel Preview that Blade got his first full-length solo adventure. The September 1975 issue (#3) had a story written by Chris Claremont, with the first half drawn by Tony DeZuniga and the second half by Rick Rival.

The story, like most of the Tomb of Dracula continuity, was set in London. It involves a plot by a vampire named Anton Vierken and a human allied with the bloodsuckers named Lady Marguerite D'Alescio. They want to get rid of Blade, so they kidnap his girlfriend to lead him into a trap.

The trap, though, isn't to kill Blade, but to frame him for murder. They do it quite effectively, because by the time Blade has sliced his way through a trio of Red Shirt vamps, he's convinced that a knife he threw at

Vierken instead killed a little girl.

One of the strengths of the story is Blade's reaction to this. He's horrified by what he thinks he's done and plans to take responsibility and turn himself in, but first he's got to rescue his girl.

Soon, he's teamed up with a psychic cop named Kate Fraser, who is able to pull the little girl's dying moments out of the corpse's mind. She sees Blade is innocent, but psychic evidence isn't admissable in court. (This is one of several minor weak points in the story--the cops also find some hard evidence that points to Blade's innocence, but this is ignored for rest of the story.)

Kate and Blade are eventually forced to team up, taking out vampires in clever ways--such as hanging a crucifix around the neck of one and tossing another onto an electrified rail in the London Underground. Actually, I'm not sure this last method would work. The vampire might be charred, but wouldn't he still be alive unless you used a more traditional method to finish him off? Oh, well, I guess Blade would know better than me.

Eventually, Blade needs to sneak into a remote castle to rescue the girl and prevent a scheme to develop a serum that would allow vampires to operate in daylight.

Despite the minor plot holes, it's a strong story, punctuated by some great fight scenes. The black-and-white pencil work provided by both the artists is strong. And it's the fact that it is done in black-and-white that makes the story work so well. There are some undeniably gruesome stuff happening. The lack of color still allows the horror to come through, but prevents the imagery from being graphic or too gross. If this story had been done in color, it would have simply been unpleasant. In black-and-white, it works as both an action story and a horror tale.

There was one bizarre glitch that happened when the story abruptly switched artists (and I have no idea why DeZuniga couldn't finish the job). At the end of one chapter, Vierken and Lady Marguerite are watching as Kate Fraser is about to be torn apart by vampires. Marguerite is wearing a sort-of Dark Victorian dress that's prim and proper while still giving an "I'm evil" vibe.

BEFORE

Then, at the beginning of the next chapter, with the story now being drawn by Rico Rival, Marguerite has apparently done a quick clothing change. She's now in full-scale Vampirella mode. I guess that's the correct fashion choice when observing a brutal murder.

AFTER