With my newfound wealth, I was able to buy Justice League of America #143 at its new price of sixty cents, but then the money started burning a hole in my pocket the next Sunday after church, even with no new issue of JLA to buy. First, I had to buy some BBs. I had received a Daisy BB gun for Christmas from my mother, and an ample supply of BBs to last quite a while. Fortunately, the same general store that carried my comic books also had tubes of ammunition. At 50 cents each, that gave me an alternative when there were no comics I wanted.
I had taken hunter safety in sixth grade, and already knew how to handle actual firearms safely, so a BB gun was good practice for me, even though I had fired real guns by this time already.
When I wasn’t out shooting up the woods with BBs, I was still reading and drawing all the time. And now that I wasn’t restricted in enjoying superheroes, I started making up my own characters, and even combining superheroes with Star Trek-like ships that I created. After all, the Legion of Super-Heroes had their own cruiser that looked like a cross between the Enterprise and a Klingon ship. It clearly borrowed quite a bit from Star Trek.
The Legion Cruiser
When the next Sunday came along and I still had money to burn, I did something that was near-unthinkable. I spent a dollar on a comic book. A whole dollar! It was crazy, but the Neal Adams cover beckoned to me.
World’s Finest #245
Batman and Superman fighting Martians? Eighty pages? I had to have it! I hadn’t seen stories with the Martian Manhunter since I was a little boy, reading Justice League of America. This is why covers are so important. They sell comic books! Sadly, the interior art left me a little cold. There’s nothing wrong at all about Curt Swan’s art. Nothing at all. But he wasn’t Neal Adams. However, there was a logo for the Martian Manhunter which I thought was one of the coolest logos I’d ever seen.
That wasn’t the story that caught my attention the most, though. That was the Black Canary story later in the book. My 12-year-old eyes were drawn immediately to the circular panel.
I think this was the first time I had ever really considered a woman taking her clothes off, let alone a woman superhero, and it made me feel strange. I couldn’t name the feeling or describe it in words at that time, so I just tried to shrug it off and finish reading the comic. But for some reason, I kept coming back that page to stare at it. How many people can name the day when puberty first hit them hard? For me, it was Sunday, March 20, 1977.
Jeff Chamberlain stood in the newly-completed Spacedock observation lounge, watching the U.S.S. Enterprise float into its designated mooring bay. The Federation starship, under the command of Captain James T. Kirk, had just returned from its five-year mission, the only Constitution class starship of the original 12 to do so. As Chamberlain’s practiced eye assessed the condition of the ship, he smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Jeff’s father had been one of the engineers that had designed and built Enterprise almost 20 years before, and Jeff was no stranger to starship design himself. What he saw was nearly a literal Ship of Theseus. He doubted if there were more than 20% of the ship’s original parts left intact. Both warp nacelles and pylons had been replaced. The shuttlecraft bay doors were new. The navigational deflector dish, he knew, had been damaged and replaced at least twice. The sensor suite, hull plating on the primary hull, both had sustained critical damage over the last 60 months. Enterprise had left damaged parts and debris scattered halfway across the quadrant. Chamberlain gave Kirk credit, though. He had brought his ship back and was the only starship captain to succeed at that.
But that was the past, Chamberlain thought, as he turned away from the new transparent aluminum alloy window. It was the very recent past, but the past, nonetheless. He had spent the last three months studying the logs detailing the collective demises of the Constellation, the Intrepid, the Exeter, the Yorktown, the Potemkin, and the rest, poring over every detail, every crew death, including those killed from the surviving Enterprise. Space exploration was a dangerous business. Extraterrestrial viruses, giant psychic single-celled organisms, and doomsday machines abound, not to mention the quadrant’s notorious bad actors, alien, and human alike. Jeff had done his homework, and he was ready. By the time the station’s docking clamps grasped the Enterprise, concluding the final moments of its mission, Captain Jeff Chamberlain was turning the control handle in the turbolift, heading up to his command, the U.S.S. Challenger, berthed 100 meters above.
As the turbolift door opened with a satisfying ssshhkt sound, Chamberlain tugged once each at his gold triple-braided sleeves, and greeted the dockmaster for what he hoped would be the last time for a long time.
“Nelson,” Chamberlain grunted to the chief.
“Captain Chamberlain, isn’t it exciting? Enterprise has returned,” Chief
Bruce Nelson replied. Nelson was a thin man, slightly older than Chamberlain, graying and balding at the same time. He had kind eyes and an affection for his pet cat that prevented him from serving on active duty aboard a starship. He was dressed in the red uniform shirt of the operations division.
Chamberlain was nonplussed. “Yes, everyone seems excited by it. In fact, it’s all anyone ever talks about these days. Take me over, please.”
“Aye, sir,” Nelson responded. “Bridge docking port or engineering?” Chamberlain gave Nelson a look that made the older man crack a smile. “I had to ask…sir.” In the 18 months that Chamberlain had been flying over to the nearly completed Challenger, he had not once chosen to dock behind the bridge of his command, nor had he chosen to use the transporter. “You’re going out…today, is it, sir?” Nelson inquired with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels, knowing full well what the Spacedock schedule read.
Chamberlain’s grim visage finally broke. “You know it is,” he laughed.
The elder Nelson clapped Chamberlain on the back. “I do. And there’s never been a better man passed through those bay doors, I can assure you.”
Chamberlain ignored the compliment and as the shuttle pod pulled away from the dock, he gestured toward the front of the engineering hull. “Take me past the dish just one more time, would you please?”
Nelson sighed. “Again? Aye, sir. But you’ve done the math a thousand times. Chamberlain silenced him with another look, to which Nelson sighed, “Aye aye, sir.”
As Nelson piloted the pod around the bow of the secondary hull, Chamberlain regarded the deflector dish, which projected a beam of energy into space ahead of a starship, pushing aside any small debris that might strike the hull. Any impact at the high speeds at which the Challenger would be travelling could be fatal. The captain removed an engineer’s tricorder from his gear and slung the strap around his neck.
“You know, starship captains aren’t assigned engineering tricorders as standard gear, don’t you, sir?” Nelson teased.
“It’s a good thing I brought my own, then,” Jeff smirked. His tricorder was marked with his name, Chief Engineer Jeff Chamberlain, and bore the insignia of the U.S.S. Lexington. Chamberlain tamped down the memories that threatened to burst forth and focused on the task at hand as he flipped the lid open and started scanning. He had been concerned for months that the new, shorter pylon that supported the saucer section of Challenger would cause the deflector dish energy to bleed into the path of the planetary sensor array, the glowing dome at the bottom of the saucer. And for the 1,001st time, the math checked out. There would be no interference. He had requested a modified dish and a protective hood on the bow of the secondary hull just to prevent it, and it seemed to have worked. It had cost an extra two weeks fabricating the parts in Spacedock after Challenger had been towed from Tycho Starship Yards on Earth’s moon, but he had needed to be sure. Chamberlain snapped the tricorder shut and stashed it with his clothing.
“Satisfied?” Nelson smiled.
Chamberlain nodded. “Never more so. She’s ready.”
The chief piloted the shuttle pod down to the engineering hatch and backed in slowly. The connectors cycled around the circular docking ring in sequence, followed by an illuminated green light. “Barber poles,” uttered Nelson.
“Successful docking hasn’t been signaled with the alternating stripes of barber poles in 300 years and you know it,” teased Chamberlain.
“I know, sir, but some traditions ought not be forgotten. Besides, I knew you would know what I meant.”
The younger officer smiled as the hatch opened. “And now I have to greet over 200 kids who probably don’t remember it. Thanks for the lift, Nelson.”
“My pleasure, sir. And godspeed you on your voyage,” sighed the elder chief. “I hope to see you again.”
Port engineering hatch
Chamberlain nodded and turned to the intercom at the stern of the shuttlepod. “Chamberlain to Challenger. Permission to come aboard?”
The female voice on the other side of the intercom replied, “Permission granted, Captain.”
“Then open the pod bay doors, please, Hal.” The pod door did indeed slide open to reveal an attractive young woman with shoulder length dark hair on the Challenger side of the airlock. She was wearing the red uniform of the operations division. She was shaking her head. Chamberlain acted dismayed. “Lieutenant Bichel, please tell me you did not just roll your eyes at your captain from the other side of the hatch.”
The junior officer tried to stifle a smile and failed. “I’m afraid I can’t lie to you, sir. But that joke wasn’t funny the first time you told it back when I was at the academy. Welcome aboard, Captain.”
Captain Jeff Chamberlain
“Thank you, Hal,” Chamberlain responded with a warm smile. Her full first name was Hallie but she never used it. She was only Hallie when she was in trouble. He began to make his way toward turbolift three, when she stopped him. Her tricorder was beeping.
Lt. Hal Bichel
“Sir, one moment, please.” Chamberlain stopped.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Are you carrying any unauthorized equipment on board?”
“No, why?” Chamberlain noticed that Bichel’s hand was on her hip near the grip of the type-2 phaser attached to her belt. She drew her weapon.
Fade to black.
“Space…the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Challenger. Its two-year mission: To answer the call when help is needed; to protect life and preserve the ideals of the United Federation of Planets; to boldly go where no one else would dare.”
On Sunday, January 30, The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries premiered on TV. I could not wait for this show!
Reading was incredibly important to me during the abuse years. I had read every Hardy Boys book in the library of whichever elementary school I was attending, and it was my intention to read every last one of them. Yes, they were formulaic. Yes, they slightly unrealistic. Two teenage boys who not only had their own car, but owned their own speedboat (the Sleuth)? Talk about fantasy for a young boy! But read them I did. If we were going on a car trip with hours worth of driving, I always maxed out my library borrowing with two Hardy Boys books that I hadn’t read yet. And my backup book was the 1974 Guinness Book of World Records, which was one of my most prized possessions. It clocked in at 672 pages, and I didn’t have to worry if I stopped in the middle of reading it. I wasn’t going to lose the plot.
But here we were, seeing the Hardy Boys on TV? Wow! The first thing I remember is their hair. Parker Stevenson played dark-haired Frank, and pop star Shaun Cassidy played blond-haired Joe, the younger brother. But something was wrong. These boys had long, feathered hair.
Joe Hardy (Shaun Cassidy) and Frank Hardy (Parker Stevenson)
The Frank and Joe I knew didn’t have long hair like hippies! They were all-American boys!
Suddenly, I realized I sounded just like my stepfather, Steve. He had a firm rule about my hair. It was not allowed to touch the top of my ears. Keep in mind, this was the seventies. Are you kidding? My hair was kept shorter than Archie Bunker’s; shorter than Hawkeye Pierce’s; shorter than Barney Miller’s! That put a little seed into my brain that I thought I would try to sow later. I was going to ask my dad if I could grow my hair longer, so that it touched my ears. I felt like a conspirator.
When he said yes, I thought I was getting away with murder. I started asking for more crazy stuff. I asked if I could wear blue jeans and tennis shoes to school. He looked at me like my head had spun all the way around. “Of course you can!” I couldn’t take these things for granted, because previously, I had had to wear slacks and dress shoes. Tennis shoes were for gym class only, I can’t tell you how much fun it was wearing hand-me-down platform shoes out at recess.
The next day of school, Monday, January 31, I walked in like I owned the place. I had the 1977 equivalent of swag, with my informal pants and shoes. And I could almost feel my hair growing out already, and it was all thanks to Frank and Joe.
With winter coming to an end in Northern Michigan, all sorts of nature came back to life, including porcupines. I had never seen a porcupine before, but my dog, Ladybug, met one in the woods beside the house one evening. They had a disagreement that left over 100 porcupine quills in her mouth and nose. True to his word, my dad made me responsible for the care of my dog. He gave me a pair of needle nose pliers and showed me how to remove the quills, pulling them from as close to her skin as possible. I wasn’t prepared for the whimpering mess Ladybug became.
As I pulled my first quill, she tried to shake away from me, crying out. And on it went, for over two hours. I had to hold her head tight, wrapped partially in a towel, over and over again. Fortunately it was a Saturday night. She was bleeding from each hole that the pulled quills left behind, and I would have to occasionally stop to clean her up. I think I cried as much as she did, but I swear she looked at me with gratitude when they were all gone. I gave her ice cubes to try to curb the pain, but she wouldn’t have any of that, so I took her outside where she could eat snow. And she did.
Astonishingly, on Sunday morning, she practically acted like nothing had ever happened. I was grateful that it was going to be a normal Sunday, because I knew there was going to be a comic book waiting for me at the store in a few hours. After church, though, I had quite a shock. The price of Justice League of America had risen from 50 cents to 60 cents! Fortunately, I was still rich from raising money for the library book that I didn’t have to pay for. But this was not going to go well in the future. I would have to save an extra dime for the week when Justice League of America was going to hit the stands.
Justice League of America #143
The cover of JLA #143 was shocking. Wonder Woman hitting Superman? What could be behind this? It was true that Wonder Woman had been acting a little hostile toward Flash and Green Arrow two months previous, but hitting Superman? Why? As the story began, I felt uncomfortable. I was not used to my heroes disagreeing, let alone, arguing strongly enough that one of them would leave the team. I know Marvel comics did that a lot, but not DC comics. They were the Super Friends, after all, as seen on TV! By the time the issue was over, it was revealed that The Construct, the villain from the previous issue that had been vanquished by The Atom, was behind controlling a whole slew of characters, including Wonder Woman and several supervillains. And by the end of the issue, in true DC style, the status quo was restored, and Wonder Woman was back in the Justice League.
I was a big fan of status quo back then. It provided comfort and stability when I needed it.
We’ve already been over how the 1977 Marvel Memory Album calendar had an impact on my adolescence, but this is the one that got away. I never had the DC 1978 Calendar of Super-Spectacular Disasters…until now.
DC 1978 Calendar of Super-Spectacular Disasters
I just received this calendar in August. I’d been after this one for a long time. Back when my dad and I were the poorest I remember being, living in a trailer, him without a job, and depending on Grandma and Grandpa for financial help just to eat store-brand macaroni and cheese, I wanted this calendar. My dad had gotten me the Marvel 1977 Memory Album the previous year, but this one was $4.95 that we just didn’t have. I saw it every time we went to the bookstore in Cadillac, but comic book prices were $0.35 at that time, so this calendar would have replaced 14 comics and there was no way I was going to make that bargain. I was allowed to buy one each week, and 14 weeks without a new comic book would have been unthinkable then. Fortunately, I don’t have to make choices like that anymore!
First of all, you have to appreciate the Neal Adams cover. Superman and friends shifting the moon in its orbit? Come on! And look at Batman lending moral support. He may be yelling at Supergirl, I’m not sure. But when you look at the back cover, there appears a mystery afoot, with a secret mastermind behind a plot to destroy the Earth. Who is behind it? There are clues inside.
Looking at the inside, you find Batman battling Dr. Light. But what’s this? On January 3, a computer readout gives you a clue to the mastermind’s identity. You have to darken space I-23. Huh?
Yes, on the back page there is a puzzle board like a Battleship board where you darken in the clues to find the identity of the mastermind!
I don’t think I have to tell you that I absolutely LOVE stuff like this. It’s what made comics fun when I was a kid. But maybe the best part of it is, I can put the calendar up on my wall this year, because the dates and days of the week match!
