In
the landmark Batman #217 (December
1969), the issue that is recognized as having ushered in the Dark Knight’s
Bronze Age, Bruce Wayne outlines his new strategies for dealing with crime, as
well as his initiative for protecting the victims, who are all too often left
out in the cold even when cases are successfully closed. The former is the
bailiwick of Batman, while the latter is that of Bruce. Even though they are
two sides of the same coin, the Caped Crusader and his civilian alter ego are
distinct personas, and it is this duality that allows one to operate during the
daylight hours and the other at night, thus doubling his effectiveness. (The
question of when he’s supposed to sleep is addressed later on.)
The
“special assistance” initiative, sponsored by the Wayne Foundation, is dubbed
V. I. P. (Victims, Inc. Program). It often serves a dual purpose, as the
victims who come seeking Wayne’s help are also unwittingly apprising Batman of
the injustices they’ve suffered. I’m sure that Bruce considered this when he
established the program. After all, even though the Masked Man-hunter is
usually several steps ahead of the criminals in Gotham (and elsewhere), he
still appreciates the fact that getting the “inside scoop” from the horse’s
mouths saves him a lot of footwork and the necessity of relying on his network
of informants.
As
Detective Comics #403, “You Die by
Mourning,” opens, a woman identifying herself as Mrs. Randall appeals to Bruce
concerning the death of her husband, Laird. When he remarks that he was unaware
of the incident, she tells him that his death hasn’t occurred yet, but it will
soon. As she reaches into her purse to pull out a handkerchief, a pistol
tumbles out onto the desktop. Startled, she turns and flees from the office,
leaving a perplexed Bruce in her wake.
That
evening, Batman visits the home of the only Laird Randall in the phonebook and,
peering through the window, finds the mysterious woman he encountered earlier
(whose name, we discover, is Angie) looking happy as she gets ready for a
costume party. Her husband, still very much alive, has dressed himself as the “Ghost
of Dracula” (whatever that means), and despite the incident in Bruce’s office,
things seem all right. We learn that they are headed to a party at a “haunted
house,” having been invited by an unknown host. A horse-drawn carriage arrives
to whisk them to the soiree, and even though Angie is initially unsettled, the
couple soon begins to appreciate the romantic ride.
Things
turn sour when a car tears out of the woods and pursues the carriage. The coachman
takes this opportunity to leap from the vehicle, as men in the car begin firing
on it. Batman, who has been “stowing away” on the carriage’s underbelly, tosses
a smoke grenade at the car, impairing the driver’s vision, causing him to crash
into a tree. Batman climbs onto the horse’s back to calm the animal, bringing
the carriage to a halt. The coachman, unnerved by the Dark Knight’s appearance,
rushes back to the carriage, explaining to the Randalls that he panicked when
the car began chasing them and promises to get them to the party. At this
point, Batman rules Angie out as a suspect, since she had just as much to lose
as her husband.
Batman
interrogates the men in the wrecked car and finds that they don’t know the name
of their employer, as they received the down payment for the hit in the mail. They
were supposed to receive the rest of the money at the “haunted house” because,
as Batman deduces, the Randalls were never supposed to arrive. Knocking out the
gunmen, he rushes to catch the coach, realizing that Laird and Angie are in
terrible danger.
When
the carriage pulls up to the house, the couple remarks that it appears
abandoned, and the driver tells them that they are, in fact, the only “guests”
and that he is the host. He leads them
inside the crumbling building at gunpoint and reveals himself as Van Paxton,
the crooked owner of a rival paving firm. He had previously tried to strong-arm
Laird into dropping out of the bidding for a lucrative contract, but the
latter had refused. As he fires his pistol, a woman appears seemingly out of
nowhere and dives in front of the bullet.
It
turns out that woman is Audrey, Angie’s twin sister and unhappy wife of Paxton.
Batman shows up and subdues Paxton, revealing that he realized there had to be
a twin since Angie was clearly unaware of her husband’s impending murder. It
was Audrey who had appealed to V. I. P., posing as Laird’s “widow,” because
even though she hadn’t spoken to Angie in years (due to her husband’s mob
connections) she couldn’t bear the thought of Laird’s being killed. His plans
foiled, Paxton attempts to escape but falls through the rotten floorboards and
is strangled by his scarf.
The
case is solved, but Batman is left feeling dejected, as he failed to prevent
Audrey’s death.
Artistically,
Detective #403 is a good
representation of the change, still in its incipient stages, from the Silver
Age to the Bronze. Bob Brown and Frank Giacoia do an adequate job in telling
the story, and you can tell that they’ve taken a cue from Neal Adams and Dick
Giordano in trying to give the art an updated look. DC had a “house style”
during the Silver Age, based largely on Carmine Infantino and Curt Swan’s
styles, and when someone is accustomed to drawing this way it can be a tough
pattern to break. (Recall that Marvel’s management wanted everyone to draw like
Jack Kirby during the same time. No offense to Kirby, but, thankfully, this
likewise changed as it became clear that the 1970s was going to be a decade of “moving
forward” for comics.)
The
cover of this issue, brilliantly rendered by Adams (does this guy have an
aptitude for composition, or what?), succeeds in summarizing its contents
without giving away any of the plot. There is a very clear suggestion of malice
on the part of the deceased woman’s spirit, which is, of course, in contrast to
the story, but it encapsulates, at least on a metaphorical level, the anguish
that Batman experiences at not having been able to save Audrey’s life.
The
impetus behind the Dark Knight’s actions has always been the pursuit of
justice, and when it is not done it puts him right back in the alley with his
parents’ bullet-riddled corpses: helpless, alone, tears streaming down his young
face. He knows what it’s like to be a victim, and he doesn’t want anyone else
to have to go through that.
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