MARTHA THOMASES: Why I love the Legion
It was in early 1980 when I realized what I geek I had turned into. The night before, I had a dream. My dream was not the inspirational kind like Martin Luther King, Jr., nor the poetic kind that Neil Gaiman would later spin into a career that brings happiness to millions.
I had a geek dream.
In my dream, the Ramones tried out for the Legion of Super-Heroes, and were turned down because Legion rules didn’t allow for more than one person to have the same super-power, which, in this case, was being a Ramone. I no longer remember precisely who turned them down, but I do remember Bouncing Boy suggesting they join the Legion of Substitute Heroes. Joey wanted to, but Dee Dee refused.
Then I woke up.
I read my first Legion story in Jamestown, New York, visiting my grandparents in the late 1950s or early 1960s. I had what must have been an Adventure comic, with a story about the adult Legion of Super-Villains fighting Superman, and the adult Legion of Super-Heroes joining in. My grandparents, while lovely people, were very boring, and I dove into that comic as a way of avoiding Lawrence Welk on television. Luckily, this eight-page story had plenty to mesmerize a young girl. Cosmic King versus Cosmic Man! Lightning Lord versus Lightning Man! Saturn Queen versus Saturn Woman! The villains had regal names while the heroes had descriptive names. Clearly, ego and a class system must be what turned people bad.
Over the next several decades, I read as many Legion stories as I could. I loved the variety of powers these kids had (Matter-Eater Lad!), and that they had a meetings where they could gather and sit behind desks, with title cards that explained their abilities, in case they forgot. (“I’m Invisible Kid, but I don’t know what I do. Oh, here it says on my name-plate. I can turn invisible!”)
But mostly, I loved that they had a clubhouse.
A bunch of teenagers lived together in a clubhouse. What could be more awesome? Years later, when I watched The Monkees, they lived in a house together, too. The Beatles seemed to share a residence in Help. To this day, when I meet people who share something that impresses me, I assume they live together in a clubhouse. Perhaps that clubhouse is the New York Times, or the Gawker house. It always disappoints me that this isn’t true.
Like so much of the DC Universe, the Legion has been re-invented over and over again. Sometimes, they are young kids, and sometimes they grow up. Sometimes, it’s a soap opera, with romance and sex and intrigue. Sometimes it’s a geo-political metaphor, with space sectors standing in for Earth-bound continents. Whatever changes occur, there are some constants – the Legion has a cast of thousands, and everyone is welcome.
Bouncing Boy is roly-poly, Brainiac 5 is green, Chameleon is orange with antennas, Princess Projectra is a giant snake – if you can work with the team, you can be a Legionnaire. It’s true that there aren’t many girl members with thick waistlines, but that’s unfortunately true throughout comics. This never made me feel excluded. I’d seen the gym in the clubhouse and figured they all worked out.
When my son was a little boy, he, too, loved the Legion. The thirty years of back-story didn’t faze him. He found characters with whom he could identify, and he even submitted characters for the try-outs. There’s something about the Legion that makes everyone feel included.
If only Dee Dee Ramone had been accepted, perhaps he’d be with us today.
Martha Thomases is empiress of all media for ComicMix.com. Artwork by Curt Swan, George Klein and John Forte, copyright 1963 DC Comics. All Rights Reserved.
Michael Davis’s column, which usually runs on Fridays, will run on Saturday this week
I used to have a recurring nightmare about the Legion of Super-Heroes during my horrible time as and after a DC editor. I was called into Jenette's office, told I would have to write the Legion, but that first I had to pass a Legion trivia test, given by Paul Levitz. I did okay at first, but got hung up on Chameleon Boy's last name. I stood there, shaking, repeating "Reep…, "Reep…, "Reep…" I still get DC nightmares, but they don't involve the Legion.
Whew, finally able to sign in for commenting! I love your clubhouse theory, Martha. I'm convinced that's one of the reasons Friends of Lulu/NY was so successful in its early days; we had a clubhouse. Dang, I miss that loft!Monstress was thick around the waist, and for obvious reasons she was one of my favorite Legionnaires for a long while. When Robin and I got married our friend Alan drew a beautiful wedding portrait of Hulk and Monstress, which is still hanging on our bedroom wall.
What Martha leaves out of this is how she was finally immortalized in the Legion mythos. Before the recent reboot, the Legion had aliens that made the costumes for them. They were called Athramites, an anagram for Martha with "ites" stuck on the end. They haven't showed up in the Waid reboot yet. A shame really.
I think the Legion was with midwestern white boy's first stab at the concept of diversity. Different kids with individual powers from different places. Plus SuperBOY and Supergirl. They ceased to resonate with me when removed from the Superman mythos yet still remain a favorite.
That was THIS midwestern
It's all about inclusion, or not, to me. The cover of Adventure 247 tore me up all those years ago. Some off-planet super teens I'd never heard of (what's a Cosmic Boy?) tell Superboy where to get off, calling his powers "too ordinary."
Being a midwestern white boy (well, back when I could still be a boy), I agree with that completely. And the "folding time in upon itself" aspect of Superboy comforting Supergirl was just wonderfully wacky. But the Legion stopped making sense to me after the big Superman reboot. The whole pocket universe thing was too convenient a Band-Aid.
Mike, I agree. Also lowering the boom on the concept of time travel all but killed the main premise of the whole series. Who CARES if by today's understanding of time travel each trip would alter history. It was just good fun.
I missed the onset of super-teams (they must've hit during my "I'm-getting-too-old-for-comics" period before I was turned on to Kurtzman's MAD and then to underground comix) and thus never read any Legion stories. The comics I read before then did not prepare me for the weird notion of unified comics-company universes. Little Lulu visits Duckburg? I don't think so. For me during those early years it was the height of boundary-breaking thrills to read the Superman-Batman combo stories in World's Finest Comics.
I loved the idea of the superhero clubhouse — somehow, it felt right to know that they would hang out in their superpowered hideout between missions.