I’m
interested in the evolution of a nonexistent but familiar profession, that of the
superhero.
I’d
define a professional superhero as some markedly superior individual who works,
almost always without pay, to fight crime and/or rescue people. The constant danger
combined with a distinct absence of material rewards may explain why this
profession exists only in fiction.
And
superheroics is a profession, and not
a mere occupation, because — like physicians, lawyers, teachers, military
officers, engineers and journalists — superheroes must be trusted to exercise
special skills and abilities on behalf of people who don’t possess or even necessarily
understand them. Superheroes must adhere to an ethical code to make sure that they do
not exploit the people they’re supposed to help. That’s what puts the “hero” in
“superhero.”
Which
raises another issue. The term “hero,” like the terms “villain” and “monster,”
is not a job description. It’s always the expression of the viewpoint of an
outsider. Heroes and villains and monsters never call themselves that. However,
the popular term “superhero” will have to serve here.
So,
where did this odd calling come from? I’d say it evolved from heroic popular
fictional protagonists like the Scarlet Pimpernel, Zorro, Tarzan and the Saint.
The
first two are sort of limited-purpose superheroes, using their abilities and
disguises to rescue victims of the French revolution and to oppose dictatorship
in old California, respectively.
The
atavistic Tarzan largely wanted to be left alone, but his taste for adventure
and inherent sense of justice continually put him up against some bad hats.
A
similar enthusiasm for justice and adventure prompted Simon Templar, the Saint,
to waggishly hunt and dispose of criminals.
The
first three heroes were wealthy and needed no compensation, and Templar lived
well as the “Robin Hood of Modern Crime” by relieving crooks of their
ill-gotten gains. Early in his career, the Saint also functioned anonymously,
using a haloed stick-figure drawing as his symbol, but his “secret identity”
became known fairly quickly.
The
first true superheroes probably appeared in the Depression-era American pulp
magazines, the earliest being the Shadow in 1931. The magazine character was
the personification of a spooky radio narrator who laughed and talked about
knowing the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. He’d debuted on July 31,
1930, on Street and Smith’s radio program Detective
Story Hour.
The
character’s owners decided to exploit the nebulous Shadow’s popularity by devoting
a magazine to him, hiring writer Walter Gibson. Gibson developed the Shadow as
a mysterioso cloaked avenger with a network of agents and an array of skills
and secret identities. He had independent means and no real private life, only
disguises that he employed in his constant battle against crime.
The
immediate success of that magazine prompted Street and Smith to launch another
superhero pulp in 1933. Doc Savage was raised from birth as part of a
scientific experiment in creating an altruistic superman, and was endowed with genius, great strength
and unswerving moral purpose. Training himself in the knowledge of a dozen
scientific and medical professions, Clark Savage Jr. also designed an arsenal
of super-scientific gadgets that he concealed in a utility vest, traveled in various
customed design vehicles and maintained two spectacular headquarters — his offices
in the Empire State Building and his arctic retreat in the Fortress of
Solitude.
Doc’s
impressive upbringing apparently took its toll on him, though. Even to readers
in the 1930s, he must have seemed emotionally repressed.
Also
in 1933, a Detroit radio station introduced the western superhero the Lone Ranger,
who abandoned his civilian identity and dedicated his life to masked crimefighting
because he was the sole survivor of an ambushed band of Texas Rangers.
In
1936, a newspaper comic strip presented a superhero who’d inherited his
profession. Lee Falk’s seemingly immortal Phantom was actually the
jungle-dwelling descendant of a family that had dedicated itself to fighting
piracy.
Then,
in 1938, came the comic book hero Superman, and the rest, as they say, is
history.
Certain
real professions seem to lend themselves to superheroics, and one of them is
journalism, Superman’s choice. Spider-Man, the Green Hornet, the Question and
Captain Marvel were also journalists. Journalism offers the champion a chance
to learn of emergencies quickly and a professional ethic that permits him to
involve himself in crusades to help the public and expose wrongdoings.
The
professional superhero bears a certain secularized resemblance to religious
figures. That long-standing familiarity may be one reason why the mass audience
has always found this absurd profession to be somewhat plausible. The Saint was
preceded by literal saints, as well as the Buddhist bodhisattvas, enlightened
beings with special powers motivated by compassion to aid humanity.
Superbly
talented and morally focused detective protagonists like Sherlock Holmes are
the next best things to superheroes, even though they sometimes charge fees for
their work. Some of them, like the wealthy peer Lord Peter Wimsey, don’t even
need to bother with that. So
Batman and Miss Marple turn out to have a great deal more in common than one might
think.
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