January 1977: No Man Escapes the Manhunters!
Living with my dad was very different from the very beginning. We lived near the small Northern Michigan town of Tustin, a town built around one street. Not a lot of business there, to say the least. A hardware store, a general store, a couple of churches, and not much else. On the first Sunday after moving in, we went to church. My dad’s wife, Peggy, had four children from a previous marriage, all older than I was. Debbie was 17, Barb was 16, Johnny was 14, and David was 13. Debbie and Barb lived with Peggy, while Johnny and David lived with their father. We picked Johnny and David up every Sunday for church. We all sat quietly for the service, which was really no different than any other service I’d been to with my mother and stepfather, who attended a Baptist church in the upper peninsula.
After the service was over, we walked over to the general store. I was kind of excited. I never got to go into stores with my mom and stepfather. We three kids always remained in the car, and it was my job to watch out for my younger siblings. Peggy started handing out quarters to everyone; two quarters each. “What’s this for?” I asked, dumbfounded. “Behaving in church,” she said. I almost laughed out loud. I had just gotten paid fifty cents to do what I normally would have done to avoid getting beaten. I thanked her profusely and went in search of something to buy with my new ill-gotten wealth. The girls were buying cigarettes, which made me wonder a bit. The boys were buying bottles of pop. I spotted a comic book rack in the middle of the store. Taking my dad aside, I timidly asked him if I could buy a comic book. He just looked dumbfounded at me, tousled my hair, and said I could buy whatever I wanted. This had never happened to me in my entire life. I almost ran to the spinner rack and calculated the best value for my money.
I bought Justice League of America #140, with a cover price of fifty cents. It was a double-sized issue, and featured my favorite superheroes: Batman, Superman, Green Lantern, the Flash, all of them! In the issue, Green Lantern was accused of destroying a populated moon with his power ring, and he admitted his guilt and allowed himself to be taken prisoner by a group called the Manhunters! I had to know more. I bought the comic and after everyone had made their purchases, we all headed home.
I, of course, had to read the comic immediately, and I didn’t wait until we got back to the house. We dropped Johnny and David off at their dad’s trailer, where they lived, and I may have mumbled goodbye, I’m not certain. I was engrossed in the story.
There was a particular piece of dialogue that stood out, as Green Lantern stood accused of a terrible crime, destroying an entire planet: “Blast it, Arrow! You’re always so quick to see conspiracies! I’m not brainwashed! I’m admitting my guilt, on my honor as a Green Lantern! I would have admitted it last night if I’d had the chance! Can’t you see it’s eating me alive?” This taught me a very different lesson, indeed, than being told to lie to my teacher about being punched in the face, for example. The DC superheroes of this time helped me develop a moral code, even when the adult role models in my life had done just the opposite.
When we did arrive back at home, the girls lit up their cigarettes. I was stunned. My stepfather didn’t allow smoking in his home. And I mean, ever. He had even forbidden my mother to smoke. She did it behind his back when he was away, but she did her best to cover her tracks. But right here, two kids were smoking! And that’s not all. They cursed like sailors. I was still not allowed to swear, but then again, I didn’t really want to. I was not only in a safe home, but I was allowed to read (and keep) comic books in it! After the girls found themselves something to do, my dad had another surprise in store. He and Peggy and I got into the panel van and headed up to Mesick to see my Grandma and Grandpa McClain. It turned out that Dad went to visit them every week! I was so excited, I almost forgot to take my comic book with me so I could read it again.
The trip from Tustin to Mesick was only 35 minutes, but I swear it seemed like an eternity. I passed the time by reading, but I couldn’t wait to see Grandma and Grandpa again. I had just seen them the week before during Christmas break, when Jeff and I stayed overnight with them, but this was different. This time, I was here to stay. We took off our coats and snow boots (Northern Michigan, remember?) in the familiar mudroom and Grandma met me at the doorway, almost crushing me with a bear hug. Grandpa was there at his spot at the dining room table, and he did crush me with a hug of his own. With hindsight and empathy that I didn’t possess then, I now realize that my grandparents suffered perhaps the worst of my parents getting divorced, as they only got to see their only grandchildren twice a year.
As the grownups sat around the dining room table, Grandma brought out cups of coffee for everyone; everyone but me, that is. I got a tall glass of milk, and I knew what was coming next: An entire Tupperware cake container filled to the top with chocolate chip cookies! It didn’t take long for us to put a big dent in the cookie pile. Grandma made the best cookies. On the other hand, whose grandma didn’t, right? And before too long, the adults were heavy into adult talk, and I asked Grandma if she would pull out my stash. She smiled and nodded, and went to her room, quickly bringing back my box of comic books. This was where I kept the comic books that Jeff and I received every summer and Christmas so that Steve wouldn’t get his hands on them. I was reunited with old friends.
I sat in the living room, in Grandpa’s recliner, reading under his favorite reading lamp. This itself was a treasured luxury. My brother Jeff and I were not allowed to sit on the living room furniture in Mom and Steve’s house. “Animals don’t sit on furniture,” you see. My dad had bought Jeff a padded Mickey Mouse stool a few years before, and I had been jealous as all get out of him for that. I had to sit on the floor. But there I was, in Grandpa’s chair, with the omnipresent bowl of Brach’s candies next to my spot. Starlite mints, butterscotch discs, and those terrible blue things. Ice Blue Mint Coolers, or somesuch. And there were a few anise square candies there, in their red wrappers. I love black licorice to this day, but I knew Grandpa liked those best, so I only ate one.
The adults talked until dark, which came fairly early, around 4:30. Then it was time to go. It was a school night, and I was starting at my new school the next day. Grandma asked me if I wanted to take my comic books with me. On previous visits, I had always insisted on leaving them, but now, I was suddenly free to have them with me all the time. I laughed at the thought and agreed. I was suddenly laughing a lot, it seemed. I wasn’t used to that. But I would get used to it.
