The Boomer Hall of Fame

R.I.P. Boomer Heroes

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 10:11:00 +0000

Boomer Heroes who died in 2011 included these four exemplars. Two are a little too old to be technically in the boomer generation, but they represent their spirit.

Clarence Clemons was born about four years too soon to boom, but the Big Man was the soul of Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band. I saw them early on, when Clemons came out in a Santa suit for the band's version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Kara Kennedy was born in 1960. She is pictured receiving the Medal of Freedom award from President Obama on behalf of her father, Senator Ted Kennedy. Kara herself worked in politics, the media and for causes. She battled lung cancer until her premature death.

Steve Jobs was born in 1955, a middle-boomer visionary of the computer age. His influence on this rapidly changing present and on the future is hard to underestimate.

Wangari Maathai was born in Kenya in 1940. She won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 for her environmental justice activism, as the founder of the Green Belt Movement. She also is a link from boomer aspirations to the future. May all their best work live on and grow. And may they rest in peace.

R.I. P. 1950s Pop Culture

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 09:47:00 +0000

Among those we lost in 2011 are these pop culture figures from the 1950s: actor Delores Fuller (Ed Wood films), Elliott Handler (who named the Barbie Doll for Mattel, Joe Morello (drummer for the Dave Brubeck Quartet), actor James Arness (Gunsmoke), actor and icon Elizabeth Taylor, Carl Gardner (lead singer of the Coasters.)

R.I.P. More 50s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 09:46:00 +0000

R.I.P. in 2011 from the 50s: Sid Melton, Captain Midnight's sidekick; Anne Francis in Forbidden Planet, Dana Wynter in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Yvette Vickers as the original Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, David Nelson of the Nelson family, and Cliff Robertson, whose first starring role was in 50s sf Saturday morning TV as Rod Brown, Rocket Ranger.

Yet More 1950s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 09:45:00 +0000

Also lost in 2011 from the 50s: Randy Woods, impressario of Dot Records (Pat Boone, Fabian, etc.); actor Jane Russell; songwriter Jerry Leiber of Leiber & Stoller; tv writer Madelyn Pugh Davis, who concocted some of the most famous I Love Lucy scenes, including the wine stomping scene; Gladys Horton, lead singer of the Marvelletes.

R.I.P. 1960s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 08:46:00 +0000

Among those lost in 2011 from the 1960s: Suze Rotolo, artist and Bob Dylan companion on the famous Freewheelin' album cover; student activist Carl Ogelsby; Owlsley Stanley, famed LSD and Grateful Dead impressario; Cliff Robertson, who played JFK in PT-109; director Sidney Lumet (Fail-Safe); Sargent Shriver, first Peace Corps director; Fred Shuttlesworth, Civil Rights activist (far left with Martin Luther King); actor Susannah York; filmmaker Ken Russell( The Who's Tommy).

Not pictured: filmmaker Richard Leacock (Montery Pop); musician Bert Jansch (Pentangle); musician and poet Gil Scott-Heron; Barry Feinstein (album cover photographer, The Times They Are A'Changin), rock impressario Don Kirschner, journalists Tom Wicker, Andy Rooney and Robert Pierpoint.

R.I.P. 70s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 08:30:00 +0000

Lost in 2011 from the 1970s: Elisabeth Sladen, beloved companion Sarah Jane Smith on Doctor Who; First Lady Betty Ford; Henry Morgan, Col. Potter on M*A*S*H; Ellen Stewart, founder of New York theatre's La Mama; actor Michael Sarrazin; Nixon impressionist David Frye; Peter Falk, who was Columbo.

Not pictured: filmmaker Peter Yates (Breaking Away); singer Phoebe Snow, guitarist and record producer Don DeVito (Dylan's Blood on the Tracks.)

Happy Birthday, Bob Dylan

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 25 May 2011 06:23:00 +0000

You may be forever young, thanks to permanent records and films, but you're 70, which means you'll always be older than me and nowadays, older than most of your fans.

But the guy who is always busy being born has added something special to his legacy in recent years: a way to grow old and add to the music he made as a contemporary of those who burned out or faded away. Your music now reflects that you were so much younger then, and you're older than that now. And that's a good thing, for all of us.

Happy 70th.

Who Is Harry Nilsson?

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Tue, 03 May 2011 12:53:00 +0000

...And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him?

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Tue, 03 May 2011 11:09:00 +0000

Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin About Him?) is the title of a movie, and now a DVD, by John Scheinfeld. The title is a paradox and a pun. The paradox is that Harry Nilsson is both famous and unknown (as someone says in the film, you either recognize the name right away or you have no idea who he is.) The pun refers to his most famous recording, “Everybody’s Talkin’”, a Grammy winner featured in the classic movie Midnight Cowboy.

Harry Nilsson was a musical force in the early 1970s as a singer and songwriter, though he never quite became a star. But as this DVD demonstrates, he did achieve a mythological status and musical immortality.

At one time or another I owned the first 10 of his 15 albums and I still have four: his first two from the late 60s (which brought him praise from the Beatles), his early 70s multiple-Grammy winner Nilsson Schmilsson and the notorious follow-up Son of Schmilsson. In my rock critic days I'm pretty sure I saw him at a record launch, probably for The Point. Though in the early 70s he was a phenomenon, in the mid-70s he became a notorious co-hellraiser with John Lennon and Ringo Starr. By the time a friend of mine who worked for Robert Altman’s film company played me a cassette of Nilsson’s demos for the 1980 movie Popeye, he was almost forgotten.

Even his career was a paradox. Though he did have hits that he both wrote and sang (“Spaceman,” “Jump Into the Fire,” the novelty classic “Cocoanut”) his biggest songwriting hits were sung by others (“One” by Three Dog Night) and biggest singing hits were written by others (“Everybody’s Talkin,’” “Without You”.)

Abandoned by his father, his mother had a hard time keeping the family together, and young Harry experienced real poverty. As a teen he even resorted to holding up a liquor store so the rent could be paid. By the age of 15, he was out on his own. He made his way to Los Angeles and worked his way up to assistant manager at the Paramount Theatre. When he was first becoming known, the story was simply that he “worked in a bank.” It sounded like he was some polite young teller, but in fact he was the supervisor for a data processing operation with 132 people that handled $200 million of checks a night.

He worked assidiously at making contacts as a songwriter and his talent was recognized early, though it was awhile before he got beyond jingles. His first break was selling a song to the Monkees, then one of the biggest acts in pop music. It was then that his agent told him he could quit the bank.

That first RCA album (Pandemonium Shadow Show) showcased both his songwriting and his singing. Right from the start he applied the multi-tracking techniques of the Beatles to his own voice, and became essentially the first one-person group by pioneering overdubbing. The Beatles publicist Derek Taylor heard one of his songs, bought many copies of his album and took them back to London. Soon Nilsson (he went by the one name) was getting phone calls from each of the Beatles in turn. John told a reporter that Nilsson he was his favorite American singer. Paul told the same reporter that Nilsson was his favorite American group.

His songs were deceptively mild and whimsical. But “1941” was an autobiography of his own abandonment. Still, no one was writing songs like this, and no one was singing like this either. On the DVD another famed singer and songwriter of the period, Jimmy Webb, calls him “the best singer of our generation.”

His second album Aerial Ballet contained two hits—his breakout “Everybody’s Talkin” (which didn’t become really big until Midnight Cowboy) and “One (is the loneliest number)”—a song inspired by the fatal monotone of a telephone busy signal—which became a hit for Three Dog Night.

Nilsson didn’t tour, and very seldom performed at all. His next albums were equally quixotic: the soundtrack to a children’s animated film he also wrote (The Point) and an album entirely of someone else’s songs—the then-unknown Randy Newman.

But he seemed to get back on the fast track again when he hooked up with producer Richard Perry. Their ambition was to create an album as good as the Beatles, and Perry would be his George Martin. Nilsson Schmilsson pretty much fulfilled that promise. It even had a big hit (“Without You”) written and recorded by Badfinger, a group nurtured by the Beatles ( and produced by George Harrison) who recorded for Apple. The album won several Grammys.

But his private life was troubled. A Catholic, he was torn up by his divorce, and found himself horrifically replicating his own childhood by leaving behind his young son. He was also a carouser who loved to involve his musician and show biz friends in epic benders. “He went 500 miles an hour,” said the Monkees Micky Dolenz, “till he stopped.”

His next album—Son of Schmilsson—was harder, edgier, and producer Perry didn’t like it. It ended their professional relationship. Then came the then-notorious hell-raising with Lennon (on the loose after splitting with Yoko, before they reunited) and Ringo. But in all this chaos, Harry walked into an ice cream parlor and fell in love. Strangely, she was the love of his life. They married happily and had six children.

After “Son of,” Nilsson took another unconventional turn and became probably the first rock singer to record standards of the 40s and 50s, which he did with conductor Gordon Jenkins. Even more than The Point, this was supposed to be evidence of his craziness. But it remains one of his most enduring recordings. He said that he was convinced that his voice was at a perfect point for him to do these songs, and listening to them it’s hard to argue.

Especially since he soon damaged that voice, partly through smoking and drinking, but also in trying to compete with Lennon in his scream therapy phase, leading to the uneven album Lennon produced, Pussy Cats.

When Lennon was murdered in 1980, Nilsson devoted himself to advocating for gun control. He continued to write and record, working on “Popeye” and other movie projects, and making more friends—many of whom are interviewed for this DVD, including Robin Williams, Terry Gilliam and Eric Idle.

There was more drama to come, including near-bankruptcy when a manager stole virtually every penny he had. But he returned his family to financial security before he died of heart failure in 1993. He was only 52.

The great virtue of this DVD—for people who don’t know who Nilsson was, as well as Boomers who do—is the gorgeous music it presents. Just enough to interest anyone in this man’s story. (Apparently there was an earlier version of this film, expanded when more archival footage was found.)

The movie gives Nilsson’s life a particular storyline, in what it includes and how it arranges it, and what segments of what interviews it provides. It’s not entirely limiting—there’s so much to ponder that viewers can follow their own alternate storylines.

But even better, there are more interviews and more from the interviews as DVD extras. There we hear more about Nilsson’s nobility of spirit—how he helped many people financially, with little prompting. We also get some alternate takes on things.

For example, the director Scheinfeld seems to take his cue from Richard Perry when he castigates Nilsson’s “Son of Schmilson” songs as so counter-commercial as to constitute a “death-wish.” Perry had expected “a lifetime of hits” from their continuing collaboration, but is particularly sarcastic about the abrasive and offensive to the pop audience lyrics of “You’re Breaking My Heart” (“you’re tearing it apart/so fuck you...”)

But in an extra interview it’s mentioned that at Nilsson’s graveside, George Harrison said that this was his favorite Nilsson song. And so Harrison led several of the superstars in attendance in singing Nilsson to his rest with his words, “You’re breaking my heart/you’re tearing it apart/so fuck you.”

It was always one of my favorites. Harry Nilsson, his first wife said, had trouble expressing anger (which is why, she thought, he gravitated to John Lennon, who had no such trouble.) When he finally did get anger and pain into the forefront of his music, his producer turned against him. But it was authentic. No doubt he made mistakes of excess. But his artistic decisions were usually exactly right, as his recorded legacy affirms.

After seeing this DVD I think of another of his songs, and the lyric “You can jump into the fire/but you can never be free.”

Sarge

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 07:49:00 +0000

The 50th anniversary of JFK's Inauguration on January 20 begins a host of such anniversaries of the Kennedy years. Shortly it will be of the founding of the Peace Corps, just months after its founding director, Sargent Shriver, passed away at the age of 95.

Nobody embodied the energy, the "vigah" of the JFK administration more than Sargent Shriver, the first director of the Peace Corps. I was inspired by his enthusiasm and his book about the Peace Corps (though it was apparently written mostly by a future PA Senator, Harris Wofford.) He gave substance to the Kennedy emphasis on idealism and service, and many in my generation answered the call. Shriver not only built the Peace Corps, but as the first head of the Office of Economic Opportunity which ran the LBJ War on Poverty, he supervised the invention of Head Start and VISTA, the domestic Peace Corps. With his wife Eunice Kennedy Shriver, he started the Special Olympics, and together they championed the cause. Even when he himself succumbed to Alzheimer's Disease, his prominence enabled his family to help bring this condition out of the shadows.

Here's his obituary at the Washington Post, and an article about him, the Peace Corps and Martin Luther King at the New Yorker. Here's a tribute in Vanity Fair, and one by Bono.

R.I.P. 2010: the 50s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 03:09:00 +0000

Early boomers will remember them (l to r starting at the top): Art Linkletter (TV's People Are Funny) Pernell Roberts (Bonanza), singer Eddie Fisher, Peter Graves (Fury was his first fame), singer Lena Horne, actor Kevin McCarthy (seen here in Invasion of the Body Snatchers), Mitch Miller, Patricia Neal, author J.D. Salinger, actor Tony Curtis. Not pictured here but elsewhere on this blog: Fess Parker (Davy Crockett) , Barbara Billingsley (Leave It To Beaver.) Memories of them remain. May they rest in peace. Click collage to enlarge.

R.I.P. 2010: the 60s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 02:40:00 +0000

Early and middle boomers remember them from the 60s: Lynn Redgrave (Georgy Girl), Robert Culp (I Spy), Ted Sorenson (Special Counsel and speechwriter for JFK), director Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde), Stewart Udall (JFK's Secretary of Interior), Dennis Hopper (Easy Rider), author George Leonard, operatic star Joan Sutherland. Not pictured: Captain Beefheart (Don Van Vliet), country singer Jimmy Dean and Walter F. Morrison, creator of the Frisbee. May they rest in peace. We remember them.

Kate R.I.P.

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 02:09:00 +0000

Kate McGarrigle in 1976, when she and her sister Ann were first achieving recognition as the McGarrigle Sisters. They really blazed the trail for so many later women singers in the contemporary folk-influenced vein. I remember being in their apartment in Manhattan once--one large room was ringed with motel keys, from their tours. Kate was born in 1946--the first year of the Baby Boom--and she died in 2010. So she also symbolizes the boomers who passed on this year, having made their contribution to the ongoing flow. Here's a nice blog tribute to her.

R.I.P.: 70s, 80s

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 01:55:00 +0000

Some of those we lost in 2010 who made the 70s and 80s brighter for Boomers: (l to r across) James MacArthur (Hawaii Five 0), Irving Kirschner (directed The Empire Strikes Back, Robocop, etc.), Stephen J. Cannell (created many TV classic series including The Rockford Files), John Forsythe (Dynasty, Charlie's Angels), Rue McClanahan (Golden Girls), Tom Bosley (Happy Days), soul singer Teddy Pendergrass, director Blake Edwards (10), actor Leslie Nielsen (Airplane, Naked Gun etc.) actor Jill Clayburgh, best known for the groundbreaking Hollywood film An Unmarried Woman. Others include Daniel Schorr who reported on Watergate for CBS, and Alexander Haig, of that Nixon administration; Gary Coleman, Dixie Burke.

Leaving "Leave It To Beaver"

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 05:47:00 +0000

Barbara Billingsley died recently, setting off a surprising number of "End of an Era" stories--surprising because she and Leave It To Beaver were singled out as symbols of the 50s. I wrote about this in context of 50s TV moms at 60s Now but since then, in my continuing effort to waste what time I have left, I watched archival interviews with Billingsley and Jerry Mathers at YouTube. A lot of the memorial recollections mentioned her appearance on this show as a mom who dressed up in pearls and high heels to do housework, as some kind of example of the 50s fantasy mom. Like somebody thought of doing that? According to her it's not true. Her clothes weren't expensive; some dresses came from J.C. Penney. She wore pearls to cover the hollow in her neck that caused problems for the camera. She wore heels only in the last years of the series, so she could still be taller than her growing boys.

She and Jerry Mathers were very thoughtful about the show. Mathers admitted that the producers were conscious of projecting a good image of an American family, once the show was being exported to more than 100 countries, and that they consciously tried to set standards, such as solving problems by calm fatherly talks, and by having the parents occasionally admit they were wrong.

Mathers said that Leave It To Beaver was the first TV sitcom to center on the children. I don't think that's true--Father Knows Best was primarily about the children, and it started three years earlier (in 1954. Beaver premiered in 1957.) He said he didn't know where the "Leave It To" came from, but there was a TV series called Leave It To Larry that lasted only a couple of months in 1952, starring Eddie Albert as a young man working for his father-in-law (Ed Begley, Sr.).

But he might be right about this: 'Beaver' was unique in its time for taking the point of view of the kids, spending a lot of time seeing the world from their point of view. And that does make the show special.

I hadn't realized that the show was revived for a surprisingly long run in the 80s, although on cable. Billingsley, Mathers, Tony Dow (Wally) returned to mostly deal with the problems of their children (or grandchildren. By then the actor who had played the Dad, Hugh Beaumont, had met a grisly fate, according to Mathers. He had strokes, Tourettes Syndrome, and then died.) None of the cast worked much after the series, until this revival. Mathers was in real estate. He lived not far from Beaumont. Then more recently, Disney did a version with a new cast.

But Leave It To Beaver will always be special for that window into the world of kids growing up in the 50s--though almost exclusively boys. Mathers did say that the stories were based on things that really had happened, but the events as I recall them bore little resemblance to my experience. I was closer to Wally's age when I saw it, and I didn't have a brother. No, it was the guys "messing around," and trying to figure out why adults did what they did.

Heroes of the Greatest Game Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 09:37:00 +0000

Today is the 50th anniversary of what some experts call the best baseball game ever (and not all of them are from Pittsburgh)--the seventh game of the 1960 World Series, won by the Pittsburgh Pirates over the New York Yankees with what is still the only home run in the bottom of the ninth to decide a Series in the 7th game, hit by the Hall of Famer Bill Mazeroski. That photo of Maz floating from second to third is the basis of the statue of him that will be unveiled outside the new Pirates ballpark.

It was a vastly different baseball world. It was the last year there were just eight teams in each of the National and American leagues, as there had been for most of the previous history of major league baseball. Though baseball was the biggest sport in America, most Major League players didn't even earn a living from baseball--many if not most had other jobs in the offseason, and went back to work full time when they retired. Though there were fewer games in a season (154 instead of 162), they were worked harder. The Pirates two top starting pitchers each had 16 complete games in 1960. Today a complete game is a rarity.

The game was played at Forbes Field, in the neighborhood of Oakland. It was a storied ball park even before this Series. Babe Ruth hit his last two home runs there. The old baseball movie, Angels in the Outfield, was shot there. It was torn down as the University of Pittsburgh expanded, and the Pirates went to play at the larger Three Rivers Stadium on the North Side, where the Steelers and other local teams played. Now Three Rivers is gone, and the new Pirates park goes a long way to recreating the experience of seeing a game at Forbes Field--where I saw my first games, including this 1960 team--but it doesn't quite get it all.

I was very fortunate to be a boy so into baseball when the Pirates were putting together this team, from 1958 to 1960. The names are legend, and though I've forgotten some, I can still recite the starting lineup from memory--Billy Virdon, Dick Groat (or Ducky Schofield), Bob Skinner, Dick Stuart (or Rocky Nelson), Roberto Clemente, Smoky Burgess (or Hal Smith), Don Hoak, Bill Mazeroski. The great starting pitchers Vernon Law, Bob Friend and Harvey Haddix, and the first true closer who defined relief pitching, Roy Face.

Many of them figured in this great back and forth game besides Mazeroski. Vern Law started, Friend and Face pitched in relief, Harvey Haddix got the win in relief. Clemente got a crucial hit, Virdon drove in two, and Rocky Nelson and especially Hal Smith hit key homers.

I met some of these players then, including Roberto Clemente and Bill Virdon (as I recounted here), and others later. Oddly, even though Bill Mazeroski became a member of my childhood church and to this day lives in my hometown of Greensburg, I never met him. (He was also the Pirate whose name was closest to mine, so that was what my next-door neighbor called me--hey! it's Billy Mazeroski!--even though Maz was a right-handed second baseman and I was a lefthanded pitcher, and my model was Harvey Haddix.)

The mighty New York Yankees were a team of heroes--Mickey Mantle, Rodger Maris, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford--the list goes on. Bobby Richardson actually won the MVP for the series. I saw one of the games at Forbes Field--unfortunately, the 6th, when the Pirates got creamed--but that also means I saw all those great players, too. It was also Casey Stengel's last World Series managing the Yankees. (The Pirates manager, Danny Murtaugh, would actually come back nearly a decade later to manage another Pirates team in the World Series.)

That 7th game was full of odd events and improbable heroes, none more than Mazeroski and his home run. Maz is considered among the best fielding second basemen ever--if not the best-- but he wasn't among the Pirates best hitters or power hitters. No one expected him to hit a home run, especially since he'd already hit one in the Series (in the first game.) Fans just wanted him to get on base, and that's what he was trying to do. Power hitter Dick Stuart was on deck, pinch-hitting. Maz took the first pitch for a ball, so maybe he could work a walk. Instead he hit the next pitch into deep left field and over or near the highest place, the scoreboard clock.

Pittsburgh hadn't had a sports champion since 1925, the last time the Pirates won the Series. But in that one moment, the already magical 1960 season became one that people will be talking about today, and Pittsburgh will celebrate again.

And a wonderful bonus for this 50th year--there was no complete video recording of this game known to exist, until earlier this year when a pristine kinescope recording was discovered in the video vault of Bing Crosby, who in 1960 was an owner of the Pirates.

There's more here on Pittsburgh's and my own experience of this game.

Happy Birthday, John Lennon

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 08:30:00 +0000

John Lennon would have turned 70 today. For a reminiscence, see this post at 60's Now. Click collage to enlarge.

Adventures of Superman, Baby Boomer Hero

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 06:52:00 +0000

For more than seventy years and counting, Superman has been a hero in comic books, on the radio, in animated, low-budget serial and big budget feature films, and in several incarnations on television, as reflected in this collage (click on it to enlarge.) Beginning with radio in 1946, Superman is specifically a Boomer superhero, as described in the posts below.

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 06:33:00 +0000

The first of the superheroes has been bending steel with his bare hands since 1932, in comics, animation, on radio and television and in movies. Now even as Smallville, the latest in a string of popular TV series, may be ending, another feature film is reportedly coming: a reboot by Chris Nolan, director of the successful Batman reboot.

The parents and even grandparents of Baby Boomers may have encountered Superman in comic books (his success jump-started the entire comic book industry), or in the movies (cartoons and a live-action serial) and especially on radio. Though the comic books were (and still are) going strong, middle Boomers likely first saw an animated Superman on TV, and late Boomers were introduced to the Man of Steel via the Christopher Reeve feature films.

[continued after illustrations]

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 06:16:00 +0000

But early Boomers probably started, as I did, with the George Reeves television series, The Adventures of Superman. I knew nothing about Superman or about the existence of the TV show when one afternoon several months before I started first grade, I happened to have the TV on the channel that showed the very first episode—the origin story. I was transfixed, changed forever.

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 05:50:00 +0000

Look up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman!

I made sure to watch every episode. I talked about Superman, and I thought about Superman. I also sought out the various comic books--Action Comics and the various Superman, Superboy, Jimmy Olsen, Superman’s Pal, Justice League of America, etc. issues, which I read consecutively for hours, thanks to the piles of them in the barber shop adjacent to my grandfather’s tailor shop.

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 05:05:00 +0000

This year, author Tom De Haven published a kind of tour of such adventures in their various media, in Our Hero: Superman on Earth (Yale.) He tells the story, (now familiar to fans) about how two boys from Cleveland, Joel Shuster and especially Jerry Siegel, dreamed up Superman and produced many of the first comic book stories, only to be cheated and forgotten until recent decades. (It wasn’t all bad, though. Eventually Jerry Siegel actually married Lois Lane—or the Cleveland girl they first hired to model for the character in the comics.)

De Haven explores the possible origins of Siegel’s creation—bits and pieces of characters from popular culture (especially science fiction) and popular science speculations, plus adolescent interest in muscle-building. By reversing the more common sci-fi situation (instead of human hero goes to strange alien planet, the strange alien hero comes to earth), throwing in some Flash Gordon wardrobe and a movie serial newspaper heroine (even adapting the Lois Lane name from a B-movie actress), they came up with Superman. (For one reason or another I suppose, De Haven doesn’t include this possibility of a more dramatic source for Superman— the death of his father during an armed robbery. The name L. Luthor turns up, too.)

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 04:31:00 +0000

De Haven breezes through the early comic history, dwelling for awhile on the odd attraction of the first Action Comics cover (above.) But he notes a pattern that recurs in each Super-incarnation. At first, Siegel and Shuster’s Superman was a champion of the oppressed, a crusader for tolerance and social justice.

He quotes an essay by Thomas Andrae noting that their Superman was “neither alienated from society nor a misanthropic power-obsessed nemesis but a truly messianic figure...the embodiment of society’s noblest ideals, a ‘man of tomorrow’ who foreshadows mankind’s highest potentialities and profoundest aspirations but whose tremendous power, remarkably, poses no danger to its freedom and safety.”

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 04:05:00 +0000

But as Superman became more popular, he became a commodity, a franchise, and so in the comics he became an upholder of the establishment: “He became a defender of the existing order and private property,” De Haven writes. “The brief era of the activist Superman was over.”

But even Superman as tough crime fighter faded, partly due to congressional pressure on comic book violence, partly due to Superman’s popularity with children. He became more cuddly and more comic, and even in later incarnations as writers increased his powers and his build, he was more of a fantasy figure, fighting fantasy super-villains.

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Future) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 03:38:00 +0000

This Super-arc was repeated on radio and TV. As author De Haven notes, many of the film and TV conventions and characteristics common to Superman stories arose in radio that ruled through the 1940s. There were variations on the musical theme and opening narration in the (see above) 40s Fleischer animated cartoons (with their modernist look and sexy Lois), and then again in the 50s George Reeves TV series, with the music even forming a basis for the Christopher Reeve feature films.

Radio also added the Daily Planet, Perry White, Jimmy Olsen and kryptonite. And the key characteristic that brought him to the silver screen in 1978: he is the man who flies.