On the trail of the Ape Men

The meeting with Lee Granger, the Jungle King, didn’t go as well as he hoped but not a total loss. Granger said he was too busy building a thoroughly modern city and converting the area’s native tribes into a thoroughly modern people. He had used his money to attract a few daring doctors, nurses and teachers to his new city. While he had a small one-room hospital building as well as a matching school, he had plans for expansion. Already people from further tribes were being drawn by the promise of modern medicine and education. He hoped through his works, he’d be able to show the world that Africa and its people were more than resources and labor just to be exploited. He hoped to equip them with the ability to deal with Europeans on a more equitable basis. But, his goal wasn’t one of conversion like some naive missionary. He wanted to retain as much of their culture, their identity as possible while choosing from the best that the modern world had to offer. He saw his role as a parent. His job was to raise them to the point that he would be out of a job, not to become some dictator or chief himself. And like a parent’s job, it would be one that should take the rest of his life.

The White Panther argued that if his visions came to pass, the rest of his life and his grand experiment would prove to be very short. Granger compromised in the end. Through his contacts with the rather specialized community that he and the Panther belonged to as well as his own considerable resources, here could be the base and launching point for whatever forces could be gathered. A landing strip outside of the village was already built and Granger could arrange for whatever transport was needed. Otherwise, there was too much for him to do to go soldiering. The White Panther had his visions and missions, and Lee Granger had his.

To both of their surprise though, Eric the lion agreed to accompany the White Panther on his mission. While Lee said he would contact as many as he could through radio and his contacts, the heroes of Africa were often a nomadic lot and many were in nigh inaccessible places for contact by radio or telegraph. With the lion by his side, the White Panther left the next morning for the next closest territory for word on others that might join him in his upcoming battle.

A week later and after two more days of crossing grassy plains they came across the corpse and the site of a battle.

The body was tied to two cross-beams. He had been tied up while still alive, none of his bruises or cuts were life threatening and the great scavenger birds had not done much damage yet so he had not been dead for long. The crucified man proved to be the entrance to a village where some battle took place. There were only a few bodies, too few for a village this size. Mostly of old men and women past child bearing age though a seemed to be of younger men killed in defense of their homes. Two bodies of gorillas were found. One was clutching a club in his hand and the other had a spear, heavier and larger than those used by any tribes that the White Panther was aware of. He didn’t like the direction that took his thoughts. He was shocked out of his silent contemplating by Eric’s growling voice.

“Something wicked this way comes.”

Eric turned a few times in a circle with his nose in the air and his ears pricked. He nodded towards one direction and lowered himself into a crouched position. His tail began to flick from one side to the other and a low growl came from his throat. The White Panther thought about how it was the same with humans. Intelligent and reasoning beings, but it takes so little to get past that veneer of civilization and culture and call forth that primal animal self.

“Hail White Panther,” came a voice from the tall grasses. “We are friends, rein in your pet.”“I am nobody’s pet,” roared Eric. He stood and walked over to the White Panther, obviously more relaxed though.Chuckling, out of the grasses walked a notable group. One of the white men wore a green costume and alongside him walked a native in a matching red one. Both sported bows slung over shoulders. One man, a little shorter than the others wore brown slacks, shirt and the ubiquitous pith helmet. He carried a rifle and pistol in way of weapons as well as a pack on his back. Another white man was blond with tanned skin and wore nothing more than a loin cloth and leather moccasins. Accompanying them was a dark-haired woman in form-hugging dark skins in the style of a European one-piece bathing suit.

The White Panther said to the man in green, “the voice is familiar, but I don’t recognize the outfit, friend.”

“Because when we last shared a meal together I wore a different uniform and bore a different name. I called myself the Red Panther then, but now I am called the Congo Raider by those that would seek to mercilessly exploit those I protect. The man in red is the hero Red Panther now. I fear that the change in identity is what helped cause this and other massacres. My other comrades are the famous hunter and zoologist Buck Burke, the jungle lord Kalthar and the lady Marga, the Panther Woman. Let’s bury the bodies and I will give you the tale as we make camp.”
___________________________________________________

In the center of the village, the fire cackled and sparks rose into the night sky. Most of the group sat around it.

Kalthar was the only one absent, hidden in the grasses somewhere standing watch in case there was a return of the enemy. Marga sat next to the reclined Eric, scratching him behind his ears and running her fingers through his mane. His eyes were closed and he let out a rumbling purr. Buck absentmindedly poked and prodded the fire with a stick, stirring up the embers and sending sparks skyward. The man now called the Red Panther stared at the stars and moon high in the sky.

“The role of the Red Panther traditionally belonged to one of the region’s native tribes. A champion that bound them together, oversaw the various laws and disputes. He was supposed to be the mightiest fighter, the cleverest hunter. Every five years, a new Red Panther was chosen. I became the Red Panther through a fluke. I was serving as guide and hunter for an English zoologist and botanist and all round scoundrel. When I realized he was up to no good, I confronted him and started the expedition back to civilization. Only, he was more of a scoundrel than I thought and luring me away from the group on a pretense, he waylaid me and left me for dead.”

“I was found by the then Red Panther who nursed me back to health. Over the days that followed, he taught me of the lore of that area and of the legend of the Red Panther. I hanged out with him as we sought out clues to the location of the man that killed me and the secrets he was after. Through a bad turn of luck, we ran afoul of smugglers and slavers. My friend was killed and I took up his mantle to bring them to justice. I continued as the Red Panther for some time until it came time for the next competition."

“The man you see before you actually came in second. But, while the other man was physically the champion, he was judged to be unfit to serve as a judge over all tribes, in the employ of evil white men. This sparked a war between the tribe that championed him and the other tribes for the role of the Red Panther brings a tribe wealth, power, choicest hunting grounds, and many wives.”

“Since then, he has managed to set himself up as the embodiment of some ape-god the natives call the White Ape. He’s killed a white gorilla and wears its skin as a totem to his power and authority. Through some means, he has increased his strength and speed to equal and possibly pass a great ape’s. You saw the dead gorilla bodies. He has taken command of one of the tribes of intelligent gorillas and is uniting them under his rule. They are taking humans as slaves, the prettiest women his wives to serve as testament of his power and god-given authority.”

“Our first warning was the attack on Blanda’s kingdom and the nearby tribe of friendly gorillas. He managed to entice them to rebel against her and her people. Blanda’s people were wiped out, but her consort managed to get her out. She’s recovering under the care of a white doctor but her lover died from the wounds he sustained. But, not before he told his story to his friend Buck. He put together an expedition and headed into the wilderness. Each of us were investigating other rumored attacks and uprisings and found our paths converging, just as it has now joined up with yours.”

“We think he’s amassed his army and now seeks to set up his capital and solidify his control over the area. Somewhere in those mountains on the horizon, we’ll find the White Ape’s lair.”

NOTES:
The GA Red Panther and Congo Raider seemed to be the same character judging from the costume similarities, the major change being in coloring. He originally had no origin story, so this doesn't contradict any known info and giving an in-story explanation for their similarity. I am not normally a fan of changing the race of characters. But, there is such a plethora of white jungle heroes and heroines and most virtually interchangeable, a few more native ones seemed to be in order. Originally, I thought that the Red Panther in his red costume could easily have been a native character that just got "colored incorrectly" in our comics... until I discovered he had another costume earlier which made that a little harder to pull off. As he had no origin, I hoped to come up with a way to transition the character that made sense. Especially as the original isn't really replaced, he just takes on a different identity. Lee Granger and Eric the talking Lion are from Fawcett Comics, Red Panther and White Panther Fiction House, Congo Raider Howard, Marga Fox, Kalthar MLJ, Buck Burke Tem/Holyoke

Dreams Part II:

The White Panther raced through the jungle. In addition to the power of prophecy, the White Panther had been gifted with great speed and endurance. For a normal person foolhardy enough to make the journey alone, it would take several days to make it to the temple. The terrain was tough, the jungles almost impassable at places. He knew these jungles. He knew where the trees thinned and opened up onto a great savannah. His pace quickened. It was still morning when he sighted the temple. He slowed his pace to a reverent walk, where he could easily be seen and judged as one who comes as a friend and ally.

The temple was unlike most African structures. It was a stone pyramid with the entrance near the top and very ancient looking. It spoke of old days when an advanced civilization once stretched across the lands. Now, only a few places like this stood as reminders of those times. He saw a white woman with blonde hair come out of the entrance and looked down at him. He raised his hand in a friendly greeting.

“Hail Fantomah,” he cried. “Keeper of the Old Ways. Beautiful Destroyer. She Whose Gaze is Death.”

He couldn’t see it, but he was sure she smiled. She turned her back to him and went inside, an invitation that was free to approach and enter. If he had been unwelcome, she would have come down and met him at the foot of the pyramid.

He jogged up the steps and entered the temple.

“Hello Fleet Footed Cat,” she greeted. “You have come to see the Lady of the Cats?”

The White Panther nodded. “If it is at all possible.”

“I was told you’d be coming. I’ll be leaving you to your prayers.”

With that she exited the temple.

The White Panther lit the braziers and sat cross-legged on colorful rug. He closed his eyes and opened his other senses to the world around him. He could hear the birds calling outside as well as the crackle of the flames. Smell of smoke tickled his nostrils, tinged with the manure that fueled the flames. A slight breeze drifted in from the eastern doorway. The sun rose to mid-day and slowly drifted to the horizon as a half-moon rose and stars came out and progressed across the sky. And the sun rose again, dawn breaking. And, the White Panther sat with his eyes closed, his breathing regular.

“Greetings young one,” purred a feminine voice. The White Panther opened his eyes and saw that a tiger had entered temple. The cat, which belonged in another country entirely, slowly morphed into a lioness and then it stood on its hind legs, taking on a more human form until what faced him was a slender tan beauty though with the head of a cat.

“Your countenance is troubling,” she said.

“I dream of war, of death, of destruction. Of this land, of these peoples. Of myself.”

“I know. It has been foretold. Dark days have long been coming though we had hoped they’d pass us by. What would you have me do?”

“An army will be coming to this land and destroy everything we know. Unless you and the gods do something to stop them before they reach these shores.”

“Ahh, but we have done something my child. Who do you think gave you your dreams? Gave you your powers and others like you? An army of death comes that will take an army to stop them. And, we have given you the means to gain that army if you are willing to raise it.”

“What about Fantomah? Is she part of your army?”

The cat goddess looked at him and looked as if she was smiling slightly.

“My army, yes. Yours, no. Her power is vast but only because she is tied to this land itself. She can only leave here if she so chooses to give up the ties that bind her here. But, there are others, plenty of others, some on different realities than the one you see. It is they that will be your army if you can convince them.”

“Why must I convince them? You have given them their power, can you not command them to serve?”

“Foolish child. You cannot command devotion, loyalty, courage, or faith. I can inspire and show the path, but it is up to each to choose it.”

The White Panther nodded, sensing the truth of her words. “So be it,” he said and bowed his head. When he looked up, the cat-goddess was gone. He knew his next stop. To visit the so-called Jungle King who was building a very modern city on the coast. He’d have ways to contact others. He got up and walked outside, seeing Fantomah walking up the steps of the pyramid.

She smiled. “Did you find the answers you seek?”

“Yes, though not the answers I wanted.”

“A gift is a gift,” she said.

He nodded. “Farewell and live in peace.”

Prophetic Dreams

Early 1941, the nightmares started. Bob Paxton who billed himself as the Oracle in his private detective business was used to strange dreams. He had come to rely on seemingly prophetic dreams to help in his cases. He told himself they were just his subconscious picking up clues and signs that he wasn’t aware of. This was different. It wasn’t anything he was working on but with the clarity his prophetic dreams usually had, full of color, sensations and smells. There was a radio playing Christmas music, houses decked out in holiday ornaments and he heard the sound of airplanes flying overhead. The dream shifted. He could hear gunfire and bombs exploding. People were yelling. The acrid of smoke stung his eyes. He saw ships, several of them. A battleship in the harbor was on its sinking, a column of smoke rising like a dark snake into the sky. He saw flying men, flying men who were afire. He was under water but not drowning. Bodies of dead sailors, many in their underwear drifted by. Hundreds of dead faces flitted by, floating in the water. His stomach lurched and he woke with the taste of bile in his mouth. He thought of the mystery men he saw in the dream. He might be able to contact the Flame through his police contacts.

The hero known as the White Panther was also plagued by prophetic dreams. In his dream, he saw strange jungles not like his native Africa. He saw American soldiers fighting Asian soldiers. Among the Asian forces, there were monster men of varying sizes and deformities. Some stood twelve feet tall, others covered the ground quickly hunched over on almost all fours. They had clawed hands and foaming fanged mouths. They seemed to be led by a man in colorful armor, holding a sword. They swept over the American forces, brutally slaughtering them to a man where the monster-men showed cannibalistic tendencies. The jungles changed, he saw them swarming through African jungles, wiping out whole native tribes, killing the men and children and stealing the women. The various jungle lords banned together, some he knew but more he didn’t, but it was too late, the Asian armies too strong with the monster-men to be stopped by men armed with spears and arrows. Plus, the enemy had allied themselves with various witch-doctors and shamans whose authorities that the heroes had challenged for so long. The evil tribes followed them, the jungles burned. The temple of the cat-goddess was thrown down. With the shamans banded together, they called upon ancient blood and death magic and legions of the dead crawled from old graves challenging even Fantomah’s great powers. Scores fell but even she was eventually overcome.

The White Panther woke. He had been gifted with the power of prophecy, he knew how to read dreams and recognize a prophetic dream from a simple nightmare. He first went to the river to bathe and purify himself beneath the light of the moon. He sat on a grass mat facing the rising sun and meditated on what he saw. He rose, knowing what he needed to do. His dreams were of what would come to pass if he didn’t take action, but the future was not set in stone, just the path the world was already on. He would visit the cat-goddess, she could help.

Apology and Nighthawk vs Green Skull

As it has been brought to my attention that my time lines made heavy use of copyrighted material, they are being taken down. To do them properly for publication in a true scholarly fashion would require revising them from the start. Maybe someday. When I started working on them, it was meant to be more of a tool than anything else, putting various stories, characters and legends into context with some actual history, something many of the time lines don't really do. I thought the end result was kind of cool and that others might get a kick from it. The prevalence and variety of the Wold Newton Time Lines with overlapping and duplicate information with little documentation led me to seeing it as being a bigger game among fans than anyone claiming specific ownership. I was wrong and I apologize. And, so these are coming down and back into my files as a personal tool.

In their place, I am going to put up various text stories taken from public domain comics, a couple of them of some very obscure characters. I think people will get a kick from them.

This one is the first adventure of the Nighthawk vs. the Green Skull. It's from Dynamic Comics #3, 1942 published by Chesler. The two characters would later appear in an actual comic story published by Harvey. Scans of Dynamic Comics #3 can be found at http://www.goldenagecomics.co.uk. The scans of this particular comic came from fiche so for readability's sake, I re-typed it. Enjoy.

Nighthawk

“Oh,” yawned Jane as she stared at the planes that lined the airfield of the Curry Airplane Company. “Dad,” she asked, “how much longer must we stay here?”

“Another hour,” replied her father. “The British officials will soon arrive to take the planes.”

Suddenly Jane laughed. “Dad,” she said, “will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” he replied.

Jane gulped, and then a silly grin gathered at the corner of her lips. “Let me write good luck on the motors of the planes?”

“Alright,” laughed her father.

Jane, her Father, and Jack Filan, in reality the Nighthawk, the most feared enemy of crime, walked over to the plane.

Jack watched Jane as she began to write on the hoods of the motors. Suddenly he chuckled to himself. “What a silly kid. SHE’S USING LIPSTICK!”

As Jane was busy writing, other hands were working near the northgate. A heavy club crashed down on the watchman’s head, and a silent band of men entered the airfield. Silently they made their way to the hangar nearest the plane.

“What the!” exclaimed the Green Skull, leader of the intruders as he saw Jane writing on the planes. “We got to work fast! The Nazis are waiting for the planes.”

“Okay baby,” he yelled, “school is closed. Put down that pencil.”

Jack turned and saw the Green Skull and his gang. One of the thugs tried to hit him with a club, but Jack ducked and sent a terrific blow to the gangster’s jaw, sending him spinning into the others.

For a moment, Jack’s sudden attack startled the thugs and in that second Jack swiftly raced past them. “Don’t worry Jane,” he yelled, “I’m going fort the police.”

Jack dashed into a hangar, and quickly changed into his Nighthawk uniform.

As the thugs were about to board the planes and take off, there in front of them stood a husky, masked figure.

“It’s Nighthawk!” yelled the Green Skull. “Get him!”

Instantly, Nighthawk charged into the gangsters sending a steady stream of blows into them. When suddenly, a heavy club crashed on his head.

It was about an hour later, that Jack came to. The planes and all were gone. “They’ve kidnapped Jane,” he cried. “I’VE GOT TO FIND THEM!” Jack was worried. It was almost impossible to decide which way the thieves had gone when suddenly he spied small red spots on the concrete runway. More and more of them, all heading north.

He began to run in that direction. Every once in a while he stopped on a concrete roadway, saw what he wanted on the roadway and raced on.

Suddenly Nighthawk stopped. Below him was a valley. He looked carefully and saw a well camouflaged hangar in the valley. Slowly, he crept toward it.

Inside the hangar stood the planes. Near them a Nazi officer was talking to Jane and her father. “Mr. Curry, you and your daughter will soon leave for Germany where you will manufacture planes. Refuse and your daughter dies!” The commander turned to the only orderly in the hangar and said, “Get the flyers!”

The orderly walked out and made his way toward a cave nearby. As he entered, Nighthawk slipped up the entrance and looked inside. “What luck,” he exclaimed, “the whole Nazi gang is here.” Quickly he looked around and saw a huge boulder. He rolled it over to the entrance of the cave and sealed the Nazis inside.

Nighthawk turned and raced to the hangar. A well aimed blow easily took care of the commander.

As soon as Jane could catch her breath, she asked, “How were you able to follow us?”

“Well,” grinned Nighthawk, “when you wrote ‘Good Luck’ you used lipstick. When the planes took off, the motor got hot and slowly melted the lipstick which left a trail for me to follow.”

“Well, I must go after the Green Skull,” and with that he raced into the woods.

THE END.

Speed Comics #34

Centaur and Harvey Comics liked doing text stories in their comics, often featuring characters that starred in strips. So, most of the text stories are coming from these companies. Speed Comics was an anthology title, originally starring Shock Gibson in a slightly different form. Eventually, he was joined by Captain Freedom (who edged him out of the cover spot) and the Black Cat. The covers would often be by Simon & Kirby or Alex Schomburg and as often the case were often more interesting looking than the actual stories inside. Especially Schomburg who specialized in providing all-star jam-packed action on the cover, showing the heroes all together in climactic battle with the enemy. At other companies, readers usually just had to wonder exactly what was the adventure behind the cover, making it up in their heads. Not so at Harvey! In the text stories, they started providing a little feature called "the Story behind the Cover".

Here's one such from Speed Comics #34, 1944. The whole comic can be read at http://www.goldenagecomics.co.uk. Enjoy.

Captain Freedom takes Berlin!

Captain Freedom debuted in Speed Comics #13, May of 1941 (an oddity, most of the patriotic Axis-smashing heroes debuted before America's involvement in WWII). In issue 16, he'd take over the cover spot and remain there until the end of his run although some of the covers teamed him up with the other major stars of the title.

Despite this and some wonderful covers by Simon & Kirby and Alex Schomburg, he never really caught on enough to carry his own book nor leave a legacy. So far, attempts at bringing back some of the GA heroes of Harvey comics have focused mainly on the Black Cat with Shock Gibson making an appearance or two. Probably two good reasons for this. One, his costume changed almost with each issue, there was really no good iconic look for him. Two, nothing really stood out about him, he was made up of various elements from other characters. He was given the generic job of newspaper publisher and then saddled with a kid gang who generally served as impetus for his adventures and suspected his real identity.

This little story may be one of the more unique and interesting things ever done with him. Speed Comics #26 was published in 1943 and depicts him in one of his better costumes. In the text story, it reveals that he has a super-fast aircraft of his own design which he uses to quickly fly to Germany to help soldiers take Berlin! Hitler's own final fate depicted here is eerily prescient.

Amazing Man: Death Looks in a Mirror

Amazing Man was one of, if not THE, biggest stars produced by Centaur. Among one of the earliest heroes to jump on the Superman bandwagon, he was also an early creation by Will Everett who would become more famous for Namor, the Sub-Mariner and a host of other aquatic heroes (and who strangely had nothing to do with the Shark, Centaur's resident underwater hero). Amazing Man's abilities came from one of those hidden mystic Tibetan retreats but he was not a mystical hero such as Chandu but a very physical and violent one, echoing early Superman and Wylie's Hugo Danner.

Even if Aman, as he was sometimes called, didn't originally last beyond America's entry into WWII, his legacy was long lasting. In the 1960s, Pete Morisi would lift many story elements for his more contemplative philosophical hero Peter Cannon, Thunderbolt. Marvel would also go to the same well for the origin and back story of Iron Fist. More recently, they acknowledged that past by introducing a mystery man called the Green Mist into the Iron Fist canon, another name that Amazing Man was sometimes called. In between, DC would introduce an African American hero called Amazing Man in the pages of All-Star Squadron who would cast his own extensive legacy. Malibu comics would bring back a version of the original in the pages of The Protectors, a re-imagining of the Centaur characters on one team. And, then, there is also DC's charming 'Mazing Man.

Amazing Man also gave readers one of the first true great super-villains, the Great Question. He opposed Aman from the start and under several different names and guises, he fought Amazing Man in almost every story up to the end of the run. As the Great Question he dressed in robes and with his face covered by a hood with a question-mark on it AND he possessed powers, some of which dwarfed Aman's own. He stands unique.

In addition to his strips, Amazing Man was regularly featured in small text stories. This is from issue 19 of Amazing Man Comics, 1941. More of the comic can be found at: www.goldenagecomics.co.uk