Why yes, Johnny. Yes, I did. A few more words on the University of Oregon's recent "Understanding Superheroes" academic conference. I'll try to keep this post Teen Titans-sized, and not one of the Justice League-length diatribes of my last couple of superposts.
Perhaps my favorite of all the conference events I've attended to this point (yes, there are more upcoming; this conference and its schedule of attendant events are massive), was the panel "Being and Super-Beings: Existentialism, Temporality, and Eschatology." I knew I was among my own when I met a dapper Ph.D. student from UC Davis name Kane (or Caine?) who was dressed to the nines in a natty shirt, blazer, and Blue Lantern ring. I also met a wheelchair-bound comics expert from Tacoma who works for Twomorrows Publishing, who not only amused me with the tale of one Halloween when he won a costume contest dressed as a motorized Sherman tank, but recognized in me a kindred spirit when he realized he didn't have to explain the meaning of the phrase "Cei-U".
Both panel presenters were excellent. Professor Beth Davies-Stofka of Excelsior College spoke on the connection of superheroes and religion, arguing that comic book heroes are not the "modern day mythology" (yawn) fanboys make them out to be, but rather are representative of humanity, the religious themselves. Reading Comics and New York Times-published author Douglas Wolk also spoke about a connection of gods and men, helping this dubious nerd locate a logical through line in Grant Morrison's sprawling, metatextual Final Crisis storyline featuring DC Comics' so-called "Fourth World." (How could I never have noticed that the Omega Effect symbols on Darkseid's gauntlets on the cover of issue #4 form a "DC"? Jeez Louise.)
Both of the presenters were gracious and engaged in taking questions after their respective presentations, even when I pushed Wolk a bit to defend what I believe to be substandard work from Morrison. Davies-Stofka and her husband were also great fun to hang out with for the rest of the weekend.
The week prior, at one of the earliest conference talks, UO law professor Dominick Vetri, spoke about the complicated legal struggle of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the creators of Superman, to regain control of their golden goose after a rash adolescent decision to sell the character to DC Comics for $130(!) in 1938. Vetri spoke at length about the legal ins and outs of the case, a superhero-style "neverending battle" that has risen, phoenix-like, from its own ashes countless times over seven decades...and which, believe it or not, is still taking place as I type this, long after the principle actors have all passed along to that great comics bullpen in the sky.
Vetri demonstrated a rare and self-effacing wit during his talk. He noted DC's lawyers' argument that their naïve contractors' compensation for their Superman work was partially the simple joy of seeing it in print... which essentially means they'd been working for free. That, Vetri quipped, was a situation worthy only of "college professors and poets."
It's easy to pillory these Siegel and Shuster, these two starry-eyed Jewish teenagers from Cleveland. They signed the papers for that 130 bucks, right? Their loss. Live and learn, yes? Welcome to the big city, boys, and yadda yadda. And the case is certainly a lot (and I mean a LOT, ask Vetri) more complicated, and perhaps even less one-sided, than I've summarized it here. But the Law (that's with a capital L), however flawed, has always been humankind's imperfect attempt to match those ineffable morals and ethics and standards we have rattling around in our heads and hearts.
So stiffing this pair of kids so badly that Siegel, in 1978, released a press release blaring "SUPERMAN'S
ORIGINATOR PUTS 'CURSE' ON SUPERMAN MOVIE" was immoral, no matter how legal it may have been. And of course, as I'm sure many of you readers may have considered by this point in this super-screed, it's the height of irony and arrogance that underhanded legal maneuvers would be engaged to retain control of a character whose own moral code is not only considered part and parcel of his fiber, but even goes so far as to publicly and repeatedly trumpet its espousal of "truth, justice, and the American way."
Given my own penchant for long-winded soapbox speechifyin' on the topic of superheroes, I guess I'm the target audience for this sort of discourse. And as pleased as I am that local media has seen fit to cover the exhibition and conference, it's been disheartening how little attention they've received in the geek press. Or to codify a more modest goal, why didn't I see any of the comic store regulars I know from here in Eugene at the conference?
Sadly, I fear the answer is that such discussion is over the head of the garden variety hardcore comics fan, even on the continuity-parsing Internet, and even in a college town. Or, perhaps even more disappointing, it's simply uninteresting to him. He'd rather bury his head in the Batcave, perhaps? Hoping the comic book faithful will prove me wrong, or offer up alternate hypotheses, in the comments section.
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