Detective Comics 415

Hanging as a form of execution has existed for centuries, and, indeed, the image of a body suspended from the gallows is virtually synonymous with death.

In his book What a Way to Go, Geoffrey Abbot (an “expert on all things macabre,” according to the dust jacket) writes, “Given a well-forested country, a large number of felons to be dispatched every year, a plentiful supply of ropes, and there was no doubt about the best method of execution to adopt—throw a rope over the branch of a tree and hang them!”

What is it, exactly, that makes hanging so universal? Abbot’s book describes, in detail, no fewer than seventy methods of putting someone to death, a great number of which are largely unknown or forgotten. Why, of all of these, has hanging survived in the public consciousness? As Abbot observes, it’s simple and cheap and can be done virtually anywhere. While elaborate gallows existed, primarily in public squares, where they were designed to attract crowds as an inexpensive form of entertainment, many hangings were conducted on the spot.

Perhaps the fact that hanging is less gruesome than many other methods of execution accounts for its staying power. While I’m sure that it’s not something that’s particularly pleasant to watch, no body parts are chopped off and no entrails spill out. In fact, in most cases there isn’t even any blood, making it a perfect spectacle for the savage-minded and squeamish alike.

A body hanging at the end of a rope is also one of the few ways we have of witnessing death firsthand. It’s a memento mori of sorts, i.e., a reminder of our own mortality. A hanged man may sway in the breeze a bit, but he’s not going anywhere for a while.

The human body is ultimately an immensely frail thing, and the transition from life to death can take place in a very brief span of time. All it takes is something as rudimentary as cutting off one’s ability to breathe. A hanging victim is the epitome of helplessness. He is completely powerless to free himself from the grip of death, in this case taking the form of a length of rope.

From a semiotic perspective, it’s even found its way into our diversions. One of the most popular word games around is hangman, in which players try to figure out a phrase by guessing letters to prevent a little stickman from expiring at the end of a noose. Even for a first-time player, no explanation is necessary. Anyone can see that death is imminent for a person hanging by his neck.

Naturally, hanging, as both a method of execution and/or suicide and a symbol of death and/or imminent danger, has appeared in numerous horror stories. One of the most interesting things about it is that it can be difficult or even impossible to determine whether a hanging was murder or suicide because there is little in the way of evidence to point to one or the other. It can form the framework for a good mystery.

Hanging is at the center of Ambrose Bierce’s classic short story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.” While not a horror story per se, it effectively conveys the terror those being hanged must experience and shows how time and consciousness can be distorted when one is in the very grip of death.

The cover of Detective Comics #415 (1971), by the inimitable Neal Adams, is a striking illustration that, in some ways, is the reverse of Batman #246 (see my review for details). The question is, are we to take this image literally or figuratively? Has Batman’s ghost come back to torment his murderer, or are we seeing a manifestation of the killer’s guilty conscience?

As it turns out, neither.

The central character of “Challenge of the Consumer Crusader” is Tom Carson, whose negative product reviews have unnerved many business owners. Things start out with Batman succeeding in thwarting an attempt on Carson’s life. It is assumed that the hit was ordered by Magna Industries, as its “microwave anti-pollution device” is slated for testing. Batman is surprised by this, considering that, as Bruce Wayne, he is acquainted with Ben Ames, Magna’s president, and doesn’t think he’d be capable of such a thing.

Batman confronts Ames disguised as the ghost of Carson, coated in phosphorescent paint and suspended by a wire outside his second-story window. He asks Ames a few key questions and learns that the only reason he wanted Carson killed was because Carson’s operation was extorting money from him to guarantee favorable reviews. Batman knows that Carson isn’t responsible; he wouldn’t have pointed him toward Ames because he would’ve known that Batman would uncover the truth. Therefore he determines it must be someone working for Carson.

When he reaches Carson’s labs, he finds Joan Wilde, the lab director, on the phone with Ames, who has informed her of Carson’s (putative) death. The Dark Knight bursts in, informing her that the jig is up. She hurls the phone at him and then flees through a door into a dark room. Pursuing her, Batman, surrounded by Wilde’s lackeys, is bombarded by “psychedelic lighting.” One of the men lands a lucky punch, and the Caped Crusader lands on a mattress that is about to be tested. He barely avoids the heavy cylinder as it rolls across the mattress and dispatches the rest of the “commandos.”

Wilde runs outside and climbs into a parked car. Batman, thinking she is planning to abscond in the automobile, gets behind the wheel of the car behind her, prepared for a chase, and is shocked when she emerges from the passenger-side door. Batman’s car, hooked by its bumper to a crane, rises into the air, and it becomes clear that the car is a test vehicle and is going to be dropped. Wilde watches the car plummet and crash to the ground, but her victory is short lived, for the Dark Knight, having escaped injury thanks to his amazing reflexes and the vehicle’s airbag, emerges from the smoke and apprehends her.

While interesting and well executed, “Challenger of the Consumer Crusader” is not the kind of story that’s likely to make a huge impression on readers. It was nice to have a female villain for a change, but there’s nothing remarkable about her. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy these sorts of stories, but I must admit that they’re a dime a dozen. Batman’s remarkable detective skills aren’t exactly put to the test here, but at least he manages to unearth a shady racket before others can fall victim to it.

So, having examined the story we’ve determined that the cover is misleading. If we think about it another way, though, it actually works from a metaphorical standpoint. It’s very interesting what Adams has done here. The man confronted by Batman’s hanged image is clearly supposed to be Ames, and while we learn that he is not, in fact, the villain of the story, Batman’s association with him ultimately leads to the Dark Knight’s being hanged, albeit inside a car. Thus, Adams has conflated the essences of Ames and Wilde into one image and summarized the events of the story without actually giving anything away (and providing us with an illustration that parted a lot of readers with hard-earned quarters).

Detective Comics 414

As a former resident of the Outer Banks, I can tell you that lighthouses are major tourist attractions.

Prior to moving there, I had no idea that this was a thing, and once I discovered how popular they were, I was, frankly, bemused. I don’t find them particularly interesting (in the same way that I don’t find silos interesting), but, as with so many other things, I am clearly in the minority.

The one aspect about them that I do find intriguing is the prospect of hauntings. That’s the kind of thing that gets my attention every time. Ghosts, like people, are apt to take up residence just about anywhere. While houses and castles are generally the first things to come to mind when we think about haunted places, lighthouses are apparently just as likely to house restless spirits.

According to Ray Jones, author of Haunted Lighthouses: Phantom Keepers, Ghostly Shipwrecks, and Sinister Calls from the Deep, “Life, death, and drama have always swirled in and around lighthouses, and these things make a lasting impression on places and structures.”

It’s certainly true that lighthouses are common fixtures in Gothic literature. After all, outside of the dilapidated castle or the crumbling graveyard, there are few tableaux more evocative than the seashore draped in the shadows of night. As the breakers crash against the rocks, you can almost imagine a young maiden, diaphanous nightgown billowing in the wind, on a precipice high above the waves, contemplating her own mortality, having fallen victim to forbidden love (or something).

The lighthouse itself is an ideal setting for a Gothic tale. Lighthouse keepers are, by their very nature, recluses. They live Spartan lives and tend to be eccentric, fastidious, and irascible. Spending so much time alone can have a profound effect on the brain, as everyone knows. A preference for isolation just isn’t normal. The lighthouse keeper grows old within his tower as the implacable waves wash the years away; his joints swell with the strain of repetitive tasks, his weary eyes retreat deep into their dark sockets, his features are eroded by the salty air.

The kind of dedication necessary for the proper execution of the job is exactly the sort of thing that can provide the spark for a haunting; we have seen in numerous ghost stories that phantoms are frequently “anchored” to places because of some uncompleted task. It is not a stretch to say that a lighthouse keeper would refuse to leave his post, even after death, because the seafaring vessels will never stop needing him to guide them safely to shore.    

Jones goes on to remark, “It is probably safe to say that every lighthouse in America is now considered historic and that every last one of them is also haunted.”

I sincerely hope he’s right.

Detective Comics #414 (1971), at this point in its run firmly established as an anthology title, opens with “Legend of the Key Hook Lighthouse.” In the prologue we are told the tragic tale of a young lighthouse keeper who failed to do his duty because he and his lover were in the throes of passion. When he discovers that his negligence caused a ship to crash into the rocks, he shoots his paramour and then turns the revolver on himself.

Forty years later, in Florida, Batman, having followed a shady courier all the way from Gotham, is on the verge of capturing a small group of thugs planning to sell a load of guns to General Ruizo, a would-be-South-American dictator. Leaping from the shadows, the Dark Knight dispatches two of the men and then advises the courier, known as Artie, to give himself up.

The only female in the group, Loosy, who clearly has feelings for Artie, implores Batman not to call the authorities. She offers to take him to the rendezvous point where the transaction is slated to take place. He agrees, and they climb into a docked boat and head through choppy waters toward a distant lighthouse. During the journey, Loosy explains that she was once a singer and that Artie was her manager. As the years passed, however, she lost her voice, her looks, and her career. After she had lost everything, she realized that she was in love with Artie, but though he once wished to marry her, he no longer cares.

Reaching the lighthouse, they pull the boat ashore just as Ruizo’s craft comes into view. Onboard, the general reveals that he never had any intention of paying for the guns and is planning to kill the gangsters instead. When they reach the island, Loosy tells them that she put the crates containing the weapons in the lighthouse to protect them from the oncoming storm. Ruizo waits outside, holding Loosy at gunpoint, while the crew enters the dark edifice. Of course, Batman is waiting inside and, using his virtually unmatched fighting prowess, makes short work of them.

Unfortunately, Ruizo hears gunshots and realizes that his men have been ambushed. He shoots Loosy in the arm and absconds to his boat. Unwilling to let him go after Arnie, Loosy claws her way across the sand and into the surf and ties a rope around the vessel’s propeller. As Ruizo recognizes that his escape has been thwarted, Batman appears. Before the Dark Knight can apprehend the general, however, a huge wave washes over the deck, slamming his head against the railing.

Ruizo draws a sword and prepares to finish Batman off, but before he can do so a blinding light envelops him, and, as a spectral voice emanating from the sea fills his ears, his clothes burst into flame. He jumps overboard to put out the fire and is swallowed by the churning waters of the deep. Batman carries Loosy to shore and goes back into the lighthouse to see who lit the beacon. The Dark Knight discovers that the dust covering the floor surrounding it has not been disturbed, and, therefore, that there can only be one explanation, strange though it may be.

He thanks the restless spirit of the lighthouse keeper, knowing that he has been redeemed and is now at peace.  

Irv Novick and Dick Giordano deliver in a big way here. Loosy’s character is particularly well designed, injecting her with the sympathetic aspect that makes the story work. She describes herself as a “hag,” but Batman tells her that she is beautiful, a remark that certainly also reveals that he has come to respect her during their brief encounter. The pacing is excellent, and the action sequences are laid out very effectively. This era of Batman will always be my favorite because the stories possess something indefinable that gives them substance that has never been replicated.

This story has not yet been reprinted but is definitely worth seeking out.