It's a World of Krypton Afterall...

An introduction I wrote last year for DC's Superman: The World of Krypton trade paperback:

© 2008 DC Comics

Whenever I’m asked about Krypton, the first question I ask is, “Which Krypton?”

There have been a lot of them over the years, one for practically every artist who ever drew Superman. The default image of Krypton for me will always be Wayne Boring’s, the lead artist on Superman for most of the 1950s, the decade in which Krypton received a lot of play in the developing Superman mythology.

Boring’s art had a distinctive and, even for its time, dated look, a very old school, 1930s pulp illustration sensibility. His people were stiff and posed; his Earth-bound cities heavy, buildings looking like they were carved from great slabs of granite that could withstand Superman lifting them by their corners to move out of harm’s way. His Krypton, on the other hand, was sleek and delicate, boasting gleaming, graceful minarets towering over spotless streets filled with streamlined art deco vehicles.

To me, Boring’s art represents the very essence of Krypton, that world of supermen that spawned my favorite comic book character.

But that’s just me.

As I mentioned, every artist brought their own interpretation to the page, particularly Curt Swan, Boring’s 1960s successor as lead Superman artist. And that’s not to forget the contributions of Al Plastino, George Papp, John Forte, and the rest. And, after 1978, film designer John Barry’s Krypton in Superman: The Movie added yet another version to the popular imagination. As did John Byrne’s 1986 Man of Steel miniseries.

I’ve even had the opportunity to put my 2¢ into the ongoing development of Krypton. In fact, my very first assignment for DC Comics in 1975 was writing a ten-page “World of Krypton” story for Superman Family.

I was following in some big footsteps with my little ten-pager, as the stories in this volume illustrate. Since the early 1970s, then-new Superman editor Julie Schwartz had been presenting the semi-regular tales of “The Fabulous World of Krypton: Untold Stories of Superman’s Native Planet” as a back-up feature in Superman. Julie packed “The Fabulous World of Krypton” stories with such luminaries as Dennis O’Neil, Dick Giordano, Cary Bates, Gray Morrow, Gil Kane, Michael Kaluta, Marv Wolfman, Martin Pasko, Dave Cockrum, Dick Dillin, and many others.

Each short, six or eight pages long, took on some aspect of Kryptonian history or culture from the very beginning, as in “A Name Is Born” (Superman #238, June 1972) with the meeting of the aliens Kryp and Tonn – and thank goodness for the future of the universe that two genetically compatible humanoid aliens of the opposite sex just happened to get stranded together on this uninhabited paradise of a planet – to the very end, “The Greatest Green Lantern of All” (Superman #257, October 1972), in which we learn that Green Lantern Tomar-Re used his power ring to keep Krypton from exploding long enough for Jor-El to finish his rocket and send Kal-El, whose destiny the Guardians of the Universe had sensed, to safety.

In between, other stories told ecological or political parables, such as “The Doomsayer” (Superman #236, April 1971) and “And Not A Drop To Drink” (Superman #367, January 1982) or set up small tales that brought Kryptonian history into line with other events in the DC Universe, like “The Last Scoop on Krypton” (Superman #375, September 1982).

The latter was a specialty of E. Nelson Bridwell, Julie Schwartz’s assistant editor and DC’s reigning king of continuity. Nelson liked nothing better than taking a whole heap of events, bits of business and facts from stories and tying them all together into a nice, neat package. Nelson’s knowledge of DC history and continuity – not to mention the Bible and the works of Shakespeare, but that’s neither here nor there – was encyclopedic and he wanted everything to go with everything else.

That first story of mine, “The Stranger,” was notable mostly for being some of the earliest DC work of the late Marshall Rogers (Marshall and I would “team up” for one more story, also Krytpton-related, in the Nightwing and Flamebird feature – the superhero duo of the bottled city of Kandor – I wrote for subsequent issues of Superman Family). My real immersion in the world of Krypton – and the world of Nelson Bridwell – came about two years later when I was asked to script a three-issue run of Showcase, a try-out comic that showcased (get it?!) features to determine if a feature sold well enough to warrant a title of their own. In its day, Showcase had introduced such features as the Flash, Challengers of the Unknown, the Atom, Green Lantern, Adam Strange, and others, running for 93 issues, from 1956 to 1970, before being revived in 1977 for eleven more issues. I wrote the revival’s first three-issue story arc (The New Doom Patrol), followed by a co-writing credit on the epic 100^th issue, and then, beginning with Showcase #105, I wrote the next three issue arc, showcasing “The World Of Krypton.”

Unfortunately, the Showcase revival was cut short with #104.

Fortunately, this happened in 1978, the year of Superman: The Movie.

Due to legal entanglements over the Mario Puzo written screenplay, DC could not publish any comics based on the film…but there was nothing stopping them from putting out Superman product based on their own versions of the character. And with that in mind, the Powers-That-Were turned to my left-over and nowhere-to-be-published issues of “World of Krypton,” the life story of Superman’s father (played in the movie by superstar Marlon Brando) all written and drawn (penciled by Howard Chaykin and inked by Murphy Anderson on #1-2 and Frank Chiarmonte on #3), ready and waiting to go.

And that, boys and girls, is how World of Krypton became the very first comic book miniseries.

“My” Krypton was straight out of the stories of the 1950s and 1960s, complete with the fun and goofy elements like the Crystal Mountains, the Flame Forest and, at Nelson’s insistence, such Superman kin as sadistic cousin Cru-El. (Really.) It had all Nelson’s trademark editorial touches, including his adding obscure references, such as Kryptonian words and expressions, to the dialogue that required the addition of footnotes to explain them. But that miniseries, which was kept in print for many years as a black and white paperback compilation published by Tor Books, became, for the time being, the accepted version of Krypton.

One, I’ve been told over the years, many readers considered to be their definitive version as well, just as Wayne Boring’s was mine.

In 1986, John Byrne was handed the task of revitalizing Superman, revamping the character from square one. John opened the landmark Man of Steel miniseries with Krypton’s last moments, offering readers of the new Superman a tantalizing glimpse of a Krypton quite different than what they were used to seeing. His interpretation was a mix of old school comic book science fiction and the frozen wasteland it was portrayed as in Superman: The Movie, taking the cold, sterile Kryptonian environment and extrapolating from that architectural sensibility that a people living in such an environment would themselves be cold and emotionless.

That glimpse brought demands for a deeper look, leading to the second World of Krypton miniseries (1987), scripted by Byrne, with art by Mike Mignola, Rick Bryant and Carlos Garzon. In it, we learn how the deep emotions aroused over human rights for clones once lead Krypton to the brink of civil war and a nuclear blast that destroyed Kandor, causing Kryptonians to turn away from emotion and embrace cold, hard logic so as to avoid a repeat of that great tragedy. And yet, it is ultimately an act of love and personal sacrifice that saves the life of Kal-El, destined to be Krypton’s greatest legacy.

And to readers of that miniseries, the Byrne/Mignola vision was Krypton.

So, what’s yours?

But before you answer, check out the stories in this volume. One of them may contain a vision of Krypton that you never considered before.

Hey, Laaaaaaydy!

A shout out to Jerry on his 43th annual show!

The Return of...Capes, Cowls & Costumes!

After a long lapse (pardon me for having a life...as hellacious as it can sometimes be), there's a new installment of Capes, Cowls & Costumes my comic book novelization column up at the very fine Bookgasm.com. This time around, I interview comics legend Marv Wolfman (okay, it's really funny calling guys I've know, like forever, "legends," but there you have it) about his role as co-packager/co-editor/writer on the Marvel Novel Series, published by Pocket Books in late-1970s, as well as his comic book tie-in writing since then.


"I didn’t have a great ambition then to write prose, because I didn’t think I’d be good at it," Marv told me. "I was essentially a dialogue writer — comics are mostly dialogue, at least the part the reader is aware of — and was intimidated by prose because I was a reader of Bradbury and others who were so brilliant. But we were young and foolish and agreed to do it so there would be good superhero novels. We hadn’t read any good ones before."


See what else he has to say...

Let Justice Be Done!

Out this week: Captain Action #5 from Moonstone Comics. In addition to featuring the continuing saga of current-day CA and an episode of Action Boy written by my pal Vito Delsante, it also contains a 6-page story starring the "classic," 1960s CA, "Captain Action Classified: The Missile of October," written by myself and illustrated by John Hebert.

Me, Lady Action, Ed Catto, Sean Ahearn, Joe Ahearn, Vito Delsante and a table full'o merch!

I did an appearance at the fabulous Jim Hanley's Universe, one of New York's premiere comic shops on 33rd Street across from the Empire State Building, last Friday to sign that issue (and anything else people wanted to bring for me to sign...and believe me, some folks dug deep and found some ancient comics for me to scrawl all over). Signing with me was the aforementioned Vito Delsante, as well as CA Enterprises muckety-mucks, Joe Ahearn and Ed Catto...and the lovely and ever-dangerous Lady Action (aka Nicky).

Me, Lady Action, and the equally dangerous Vito Delsante

A great time was had by all and a lot of Captain Action fans passed through to pick up copies of the new issue, some oh-so-cool CA merchandise (I got a Cap cap!!!), including the new coffee table book, and spend some time talking. A few old friends came by to say hello, some on purpose, others who just happened to be there on their regular weekly visit.

Team Action will be appearing next at the Brooklyn Book Festival on September 13...I'm hoping to be there with them 'cause I hate to pass up a chance to visit the old neighborhood, meet some new friends, and be surrounded by books and book lovers!

One Day in Metropolis

The Kid Who Saved Superman is a kids chapter book I wrote for a series of DC Superhero chapter books published by Stone Arch Books. I've written six books featuring Superman, Batman or Wonder Woman for this series, but this particular one has been getting some press because it involves a contest the publisher held for grade school kids to have themselves written into the story. On Tuesday, I made a trip in to DC Comics to meet the winner on his tour of the company, a little adventure I wrote up for the Stone Arch blog:

My Day at DC With the Kid Who Saved Superman
and Seven of His Friends, Plus Stanley

I tell lies for a living. Locked away in my office, day after day, I sit behind this desk and make up stories to (hopefully) entertain people. I’ve told some whoppers in my time, great big lies about the fate of mankind and the history of the world...I’ve even come close to destroying the universe on more than one occasion. But that’s only because the lies I tell are about some of the most powerful fictional heroes in the world, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, the Phantom, and Dr. Who. Of course, not every bit of prevarication can be so epic, so sometimes I turn my attention to more fanciful lies with friends like Bart Simpson, Scooby Doo, Wishbone or the Powerpuff Girls.

So it’s rare that I get to incorporate as big a chunk of “reality” into my lies as I did when I wrote The Kid Who Saved Superman, one of the books in Stone Arch’s DC Super Heroes line. Stone Arch held a contest for students to write an essay about a real hero at their school. The winner would receive a starring role in the book, along with his/her hero and school.

As you know by now, the winner was 13-year old Hakeem Bennett, an eighth grader at P.S. 36K, The Nathanael Greene School, in Brooklyn, New York. (Yo, Brooklyn! My home town!!) Hakeem wrote about Matthew Brown, his visually impaired teacher who, with his sidekick, Stanley the guide dog, takes public transportation to school every day and teaches his students, among many other things, the very big difference between a “disability” and a “handicap.”

Yesterday, I finally got a chance to crawl out of my cave, take the train from Connecticut to the DC Comics offices in New York, to meet the true heroes of The Kid Who Saved Superman, Hakeem and Mr. Brown. And Stanley.

I arrived at 11:00 a.m. and was greeted by DC Licensed Publishing Editor Ben Harper, and his boss, Group Editor Steve Korte. They introduced me to the gang from Stone Arch Books who were in town from Minnesota to join us on the tour: Capstone Publishing President, Fiction Joan Berge, Editorial Director Michael Dahl, and Bob Coughlan.

Next, Mr. Brown and Stanley arrived, followed shortly thereafter by Hakeem and his sister. After all the introductions were made and the troops organized, Steve began the tour by taking us to the very top. Well, top floor of DC at any rate, which is home to the office of company President and Publisher, Paul Levitz. Paul’s office isn’t quite what you would expect of a corporate big shot, lined as it is with bookshelves full of comics and graphic novels and decorated with hundreds – I don’t exaggerate – of action figures, toys and statues of DC’s line of superheroes.

DC Comics President and Publisher Paul Levitz and
Hakeem discuss the writer's craft in Paul's toy filled office.

Hakeem with author Paul Kupperberg and the original
manuscript of The Kid Who Saved Superman.

Hakeem and his box full of kryptonite.

Paul spent some time talking with Hakeem and Mr. Brown about the contest, comics, Brooklyn (like me, Paul’s a native) and their school before we presented Hakeem with a few mementos of his visit, including the seriously cool JLA Trophy Room: Multi-Colored Kryptonite Replica Display, (seriously, I want one, too) and a copy of the original manuscript of The Kid Who Saved Superman. Hakeem was a little disconcerted to discover that the book, which had to be written before the contest winner was chosen so it could be published on time, featured not “Hakeem Bennett” in the starring role, but...Judy Porter?! I had just made up a name, which happened to be a girl’s name, and wrote the story with her taking Hakeem’s place. She was then replaced (along with “Ms. Shiner,” who served as the stand-in for Mr. Brown and P.S. 36K’s principal, Ms. Schneider, who was, unfortunately, unable to join us on the tour) by Hakeem and company by my editor at Stone Arch, Donnie Lemke.

Hakeem revealed his desire to one day be a writer and asked the old pros in the room for some advice. Paul, who on his way to becoming DC’s head honcho, has written a few hundred comic book stories of his own, Michael Dahl, who in addition to his editorial job is author of several DC Super Hero and other books, and myself, were happy to provide the young author with the fruits of our many years of accumulated wisdom...all to the accompaniment of a smiling and nodding Mr. Brown saying, “Does any of this sound familiar, Hakeem? Heard any of this before?”

We had to get moving on as Paul had real work to get back to (remember, kids: With a great office comes great responsibilities!), so we moved on to DC’s incredible 7th floor lobby. When the elevator doors open, visitors are greeted by a wall-sized mural of the Metropolis skyline. As if that weren’t impressive enough, a turn to the reception desk to your right brings you up short at the sight of a line of telephone booths...and the figure of Superman landing in front of them!

Hakeem, Kal-El, and Kupperberg.

That's Hakeem on the right...Mr. Brown and Stanley on
the left...but who's the guy in the middle?

Now, I’m no stranger to DC Comics (heck, my picture is even up on the wall…if you know where to look it), having worked there as a writer and editor for...oh, a long, long (LONG) time. But every time I tag along on one of these tours, it’s like I’m seeing this crazy fun factory for the first time, through their experiences. Its walls are covered by framed copies of everything from famous comic book covers and posters to advertisements and sketches and character designs and theme park blueprints of all the ways DC’s great superheroes have been used over the decades. There are little surprise touches everywhere. Is that Clark Kent sitting in that chair in the conference room? Hey…that’s a real piece of green kryptonite in that display case! Wow, is that really one of the costumes Christian Bales wore in the Batman movies? The answers are: Yes. It is. Uh-huh, we have one costume from each film on display. Check out the photos.

Hakeem meets the press.

The Green K is kept here to prevent Superman hanging out
in the lobby and bugging the receptionist.

Michael Dahl and Batman! Watch out, Robin...someone's
angling for your job!

Speaking of Batman, DC’s third floor reception area is modeled to look like the rooftops of Gotham City, complete with the Bat-signal shining on the wall and a water tower in the middle of the lobby. It actually hides the office kitchen…Joan asked if she could get one for Stone Arch’s office, but she’ll have to check with the Gotham City Water Department about that.

Michael discovered something to his liking as well that he actually got to take home. A self-described “fanboy,” Mr. Dahl was delighted to find that he was welcome to as many comic books as he could carry. We have the photos, but we’ll spare everyone….

Superman and and Superman's Best Pal, Michael Dahl! Bump!

After Steve and Ben presented Mr. Brown with a Superman statue of his own (they also sent one along for Ms. Schneider’s office at P.S. 36K) and Hakeem, Mr. Brown and I signed copies of The Kid Who Saved Superman, it was time to let the good people of DC Comics get back to creating more comics, books and toys for us all to enjoy.

From the rooftops of Gotham City, I descended to the streets of mid-town New York City and the real world. Sometimes when I’m locked away in my office, telling my lies, I can forget there are real people out here who read those stories for fun and, sometimes, even inspiration...and, more importantly, I might forget about the real people who, every day, inspire me to write about heroic deeds and noble ideals in the form of superhero adventures.

I really do need to get out more.

Hakeem standing before the Daily Planet, where he hopes
to one day get a job as a mild-mannered reporter!

Weekly World News XXIV

A piece I wrote for Weekly World News in July 2005. Change a couple of dates and facts and it still works, four years later...

SINGING THE WOES OF UNEMPLOYMENT
The Moochers and the Paupers Rock Wall Street

© Weekly World News

NEW YORK, NY – Their once expensive suits have grown tattered, their designer shoes are scuffed and worn, but these five former businesspeople haven’t lost their taste for the good life...just their ability to pay for it.

They are The Moochers and the Paupers, a singing group made up of men and women who used to have it all until they lost everything but their voices to hard economic times.

“I was on top of the world,” said 42-year old Dennis Donnity, until 2004 a stockbroker for the prestigious New York firm of Dewey, Cheatham & Howe. “I was earning a couple a million a year, lived in a penthouse in Trump Towers, and was married to a gorgeous trophy wife. Then I lost my job, my home, my wife, and everything else.”

Now he sings for food in parks and on street corners.

They all have similar stories. “I was on the fast track to making partner in the legal firm of Lacey, Buttons, and Bowes,” recalls Michelle Phipps, 36. “But then the economy slowed up, the firm lost several major clients, and I was out on my can, canned.”

“A couple years ago, I was worth $17 million bucks,” sighed entrepreneur John Pilpop. “Now I eat out of supermarket dumpsters and have to sleep on the couches of friends and relatives.”

The five out-of-work financial workers met on the unemployment line the week after Thanksgiving, 2004. “We were all reaching the end of our unemployment benefits and started talking over day-old donuts salvaged from the Dunkin’ Donuts dumpster,” explained lead singer Melissa “Moocher” Elliot, a former financial analyst for Goldfinger & Sacks. “Dennis mentioned that he played the guitar and Michelle admitted that she could sing and shake a mean tambourine.

“Well, the next thing you know, we all broke out in song and passersby started dropping coins in my coffee cup...which was annoying since I wasn’t finished drinking it and at a buck sixty-nine a cup, well, you can understand.”

Ex-banker McGuinn McGuire was the first to suggest that they form a group. “We made almost 17 bucks in 10 minutes just goofing around. I was mooching my meals and a bed off my brother-in-law and couldn’t get arrested in the job market, so what did we have to lose?”

The Moochers and the Paupers started playing gigs on street corners in the Wall Street area. “It was kind’a embarrassing to be singing for spare change where my former co-workers could see me,” admitted ex-Wall Streeter Melissa Elliot. “On the other hand, seeing me must’ve made them realize they could be in my boat, so they started dropping tens and twenties into the hat.”

McGuinn McGuire began to write songs for the Moochers and the Paupers that reflected their economic plight, including “Unemployment Dreamin’,” with such lyrics as:

Oh, my job is gone ‘cause I was downsized today,
I went searchin’ through the want ads, and then began to pray.
No one wants to hire, if you ain’t minimum wage,
Man, I used to drive a Jaguar, now it’s bus fair I cadge.

Their most popular number is the haunting “Check Day, Check Day”:

Check day, check day, so good to see,
Check day, check day, how fast 26 weeks does flee,
Oh, unemployment, unemployment is not new to me,
Which makes check day a close friend indeed.

“We’ve started to attract quite a following,” John Pilpop said. “Some of our fans are even employed!”

“The group’s booked to play the 42nd Street subway station next month,” reveals Dennis Donnity. “We’re very excited.”

Michelle hopes success doesn’t spoil the Moochers and the Paupers sound. “Once you actually own your own bed and stop having to eat from dumpsters, it takes the edge off your art, you know?”

I Was A Stripper for the Syndicate!

...Well, I wrote a newspaper comic strip for the Editors Press Service, the syndicate that distributed Tom & Jerry, which, as I mentioned a while back in my review of a DVD of Chuck Jones Tom & Jerry cartoons I wrote for a bit. I knew the guy doing the strip, Rich Mauruzio, and he asked me to write it. I did about 6, 8 months of Tom & Jerry before the "rules" left me wrung of ideas. What were the rules? Well, no violence, for starters; in the kinder, gentler 1990s, Tom and Jerry did not hurt one another...they were buddies who merely chased each other for fun! And, no puns or language gags of any kind; 90% of the strips market was overseas (largely in Arabic countries, as I recall), rendering English puns et al lost in translation. So I recycled old gags, tried to set up set-pieces that I could return to again and again, and, I see in several these, just went surreal, especially with Screwy the Squirrel.

Anyway, as I pack up the old office for the impending move, I've been uncovering all sorts of stuff, including copies of about 10 or 12 weeks worth of Tom & Jerry proofs (that was the printed sheet they sent out to the newspapers to print the strips; I'll bet those don't exist anymore...), the only copies I have. I do have the scripts, however. I am a pack rat.

© respective copyright holder

JSA: The Novel, Part 4

It's been a while since I ran anything from the still-unpublished novel I wrote for DC Comics in 2005, JSA: Ragnarok (efforts to get it into print continue). More bits and pieces can be found here, here and here:

JSA: RAGNAROK

JSA and all related characters and elements © DC Comics

Chapter 3

Rolf Steiner drew a last nervous puff on his cigarette before flicking the butt into the black, oily water of the Nord-Ostee-Kanal. The port at the mouth of the north German shipping canal in Kiel, which connected the Baltic with the Northern Sea some one hundred kilometers to the west, was, in the daylight hours, a bustling and heavily trafficked place.

After dark was another story. Now, in the dead of night, it was deserted and just plain scary.

This was a mistake, he thought. He never should have agreed to meet all alone like this. Who, outside of characters in bad espionage movies, arranged secret waterfront meetings at 3:30 in the morning?

Well, the dark haired man told himself, patting his overcoat pocket for reassurance, maybe it wasn’t only spies. People with contraband to sell also had to play like spies, better safe than sorry.

Except how safe was it to agree to these conditions, suggested by a stranger he knew only from an internet bulletin board and e-mails?

And a stranger interested in this sort of stuff, at that. A stranger who had seen Rolf’s posting on a site dedicated to such things. What kind of sick mind thought this stuff was cool anyway? He thought the whole fascination with the subject and its memorabilia was warped, yet it was all around, even here in Germany where you would think people knew better.

Rolf had learned at an early age to keep his own familial connection to the Nazis to himself. He was less than proud of the Steiner family history, and when anybody asked about his grandfather, he would say only he had never known the man, that he died in the war, thirty years before Rolf was born. Which was true, more or less. So what if he fudged the dates and omitted a few salient details? Yes, it was true that his grandfather Hermann Steiner had died a long time ago, though not exactly during the war. More like in 1947. In a Communist prison in East Germany, a result of the role he had played in the war.

The only reason Rolf even had the damned thing in his possession to begin with was because his father had hung onto it in the belief it might one day prove valuable. Which, as it turned out, it had. Still, if Rolf hadn’t been in need of money since losing his bartending job in Hamburg two months ago, he never would have even thought of going online to investigate its worth in the first place. Lord knows, there were more than enough internet sites dedicated to the Nazis. He had received over three hundred e-mails responding to his inquiry, most of them frightening in their adoration of Hitler and the Nazis. On the one hand, he felt the damned thing was cursed and hated to feed some Aryan sicko’s diseased interest. On the other, had he known what he would be offered for it, he might have done this a lot sooner.

But still.

Rolf pulled the red and white pack of West cigarettes from his pocket and lipped a fresh one from the crumbled package. He looked at his watch. The man, this Isaac, was due in just a few minutes and, for the umpteenth time that night, Rolf hoped he was doing the right thing.

“You are Rolf?”

The voice, speaking in accented German, came from the shadows of a stack of cargo containers piled on the edge of the canal, scaring the hell out of Rolf. The cigarette dropped from his mouth and he took a step backwards.

“Who...,” Rolf stammered. “Isaac?”

“Yes, I am Isaac.”

Isaac shuffled out of the shadows and into the meager lights that illuminated the waters edge.

Rolf almost laughed out loud in relief. Isaac was an old man, seventy-five or eighty years old if he was a day. He had once been a tall man, over six feet Rolf guessed, but time and age had bent his back. The white hair that framed his narrow bony face was long, combed straight back to hang below the collar of his black overcoat. His hands, when he took them from his pockets as he approached Rolf, were gnarled and twisted by arthritis.

There was nothing to be afraid of here, Rolf thought. He bent and retrieved his fallen cigarette, lighting it with deliberate nonchalance, as if to compensate for his earlier show of fear.

“It is good to meet you,” Rolf said.

“Yes,” Isaac said in German. “Do you speak English?”

Rolf nodded. “Yes,” he said, switching to English. “Enough, if it will make you more comfortable.”

The old man shrugged. “I just want to be sure there’s no misunderstanding.”

The unemployed bartender smiled. “As long as you can translate dollars into euros, there will be no problems. Your accent... you are American?”

Isaac ignored the question and said, “Do you have it?”

This one was all business, Rolf thought. He pulled the cloth-wrapped bundle from his pocket. Very well, two can play at that game. “Yes. Do you have the money?”

Isaac held out a gnarled hand. “May I?”

The corner of the old man’s mouth twitched. His breath became labored and his gnarled hands trembled as he carefully unrolled the rough, crumbling burlap that surrounded the object. Rolf felt a twinge of revulsion at the almost sexual reaction the nearness of this thing seemed to bring about in the other man. These people truly are mentally ill, he thought. Let’s just finish this as fast as possible and get out of here, Rolf thought.

Isaac gingerly pulled the object from its wrapping and held it up to catch the light from the nearest lamppost. As always when he looked at it, Rolf was struck by the sheer ordinariness of it: a hunk of wood, maybe half a meter long and roughly turned to a thickness of less than four centimeters, jagged at both ends where it was broken off from a larger whole. It was chipped with age and the tattered remnant of some dried, cracked leather binding hung from one end.

Just a hunk of wood.

But a hunk of wood with a provenance.

“Tell me again,” Isaac said, licking his lips. “How did this come into your possession?”

“It was all in my e-mails...”

“Tell me again!” the old man repeated, louder this time, waving the stick in one twisted fist.

“Calm down,” Rolf said, further repelled by Isaac’s vehemence. He liked nothing about this man or their business together. “My grandfather was Oberleutenant Hermann Otto Steiner. He was an SS officer who served on Hitler’s personal staff at the end of the war... I brought his service papers with me, in case you need proof of his record.”

Isaac waved this aside, “Yes, yes, later. Go on.”

“Well, Hermann disappeared for almost a month after the fall of Berlin. My father said everyone believed he had died with Hitler in his bunker, but, he returned home to Bremen by the end of May, 1945. He would not say where he had been and he had with him this... item, which he said had been a piece of Hitler’s own walking stick. My grandmother wanted to burn it, but he wouldn’t allow it.”

Rolf shook his head in disbelief. “Grandfather was apparently a believer until the end. Until after the end. At any rate, he hid it away while making plans to escape with his family from Germany. I believe the idea was to go to South America and join other escaped Nazis. But Bremen was, of course, in the Soviet sector and the Russians were on the lookout for men such as him. He was arrested and died in prison some time later. After my grandmother’s death in 1992, my father was cleaning out her house and found the walking stick hidden in the basement where it had been since 1945. He kept it and, just before he died of cancer three years ago, passed it on to me.”

Isaac smiled. “So it’s been in your family’s possession since 1945?”

“Yes. I cannot vouch for my grandfather’s story of its origins, but I can assure you it is the same item that he brought home.”

“That’s good,” Isaac muttered, nodding and stroking the old piece of wood. “That’s excellent.”

“So,” Rolf said. “We have a deal, yes?”

“Indeed we do,” the old man said. “This is exactly what we’ve been searching for.”

“We?”

Isaac’s eyes danced with light, his aged face creased in a smile. “My friends and I.”

The younger man didn’t care to know anything about this strange old bird, but he could tell Isaac was just waiting for him to ask the question, so he said, “You are some sort of group? A club?”

“A society,” Isaac said, and reached into his pocket.

“Well, good. I am pleased this goes to people who will appreciate it. So, the price we agreed upon was, I believe, 10,000 euros?”

“That’s what we agreed on, yes. But now that I see it, I think it’s worth far, far more than that.”

Rolf blinked in surprise and confusion. “Yes?” If what he said was true, why in the world would the silly old man talk himself out of a bargain?

“Oh, yes, I’d go so far as to say it’s priceless.”

Isaac’s hand came out of his pocket. He fired a single shot into Rolf’s forehead from the silenced nine millimeter pistol gripped in his fist. The younger man went down as the back of his skull exploded in a grisly spray of blood and brain matter. He was dead before he hit the ground, before he had could even register what had happened to him.

Isaac pocketed the gun and without another look at his victim, turned and walked back into the shadows, smiling.

“Priceless,” he said to the night.

America, We Salute You!

Happy Birthday, U.S.A.!

Weekly World News XXIII

A story I wrote for Weekly World News in June 2006. Back then, I kind'a thought I was kidding...

CHINA’S SECRET PLAN TO BUY U.S. BANKS!
Reds’ Economy in the Black While U.S. Dives Into Debt

© Weekly World News

WASHINGTON, D.C. – A secret report prepared by the Federal Reserve Bank has delivered the most stunning economic news since the Savings and Loan scandal of the 1980s...and perhaps the most devastating blow to the American economy since the Great Depression. According to the report, since 1998, the People’s Republic of China has been buying up U.S. banks at an alarming rate.

“If this tide is not stemmed,” the 463-page report warns, “the United States will lose its economic freedom and become, in effect, a subsidiary of the People’s Republic of China.”

Dr. Jeffrey Spicoli, professor of economics at Harvard University and a Weekly World News consultant, said that the report, leaked by a high ranking administrative official, details the twisted economic road that lead to this historic turn of events.

“Communist China has taken to capitalism like a duck to duck sauce,” said Dr. Spicoli. “It didn’t take them long to learn the power of the almighty dollar.”

“The Chinese leadership had been dedicated to the fall of capitalism for decades. But after the 1991 collapse of the Soviet Union, their most powerful communist ally and the development of a more fully integrated global economy, China was forced to take a harder look at their place in the world.”

Ralph Tungsten, a board member of the World Bank, points to the 1999 reacquisition of financially vital Hong Kong by China as the turning point in the Chinese economic philosophy. “All of a sudden,” he said, “they were in control of one of the strongest economies in the Pacific Rim and they saw it was good.”

“The Chinese were quick to take advantage of the weakening American economy after the 2000 elections,” the Federal Reserve report states. “With the U.S. deficit running to $375 billion in 2003, $477 billion in 2004, and an estimated $362 for 2005, the Beijing government saw an opportunity to quietly infiltrate and expand their influence on the world’s strongest economy.”

“A deficit results when the country spends more oney than it takes in through taxes and the collection of duties on foreign goods,” explained Dr. Spicoli.

To make up the difference between what is earned and what is spent, the government borrows money—to be repaid, with interest—from other nations. These countries, in turn, will often “sell” these debts to other countries.

“In 2001 alone, China bought over $326 billion dollars worth of U.S. debt and that amount has increased as much as 127% a year since,” reveals Mr. Tungsten. “And rather than invest their profits back into China, they have been using their newfound wealth to buy American banks.”

Beginning with such small institutions as the Utah Savings And Loan, the First Bank of Spokane (WA), Brooklyn Savings, and the Montana Guarantee Trust in 2002, the First National Bank of China and the Chinese People’s Reserve Bank of the Glorious Revolution has gone on to acquire larger and larger banks.

“China now owns over one hundred U.S. banks worth more than $17 trillion dollars,” said Dr. Spicoli. “That makes them a majority shareholder in America. If they decided to call in, or demand repayment of trillions of dollars in debt, the country would be unable to pay and would be forced to default on their loans, making Beijing, in essence, the new owners of America.”

“The national security implications of Chinese ownership of America’s financial institutions are staggering,” the Fed report said. “They can manipulate the economy to cause inflation, recessions, or even a full-blown depression. They can even hold American foreign policy hostage by threatening economic sanctions if we go off in directions they do not like or are against their own interests.”

“These are dark days for the U.S. economy,” warns Dr. Spicoli. “The implications of Chinese ownership of U.S. banks will be much more serious than bank customers receiving woks instead of toasters for opening new accounts. America, like many Americans, is suddenly only one missed payment away from bankruptcy and Chinese ownership!”