Comic Book Review: Green Lama Volume One by various creators.
The Green Lama started life as a pulp character created by Kendell Foster Crossen in 1940. He almost immediately began appearing in comic books as well, and had his own radio show. Surprisingly, Ken Crossen had managed to hold on to the rights to the character and was involved in the writing of all of these under his pen name of Richard Foster. (Despite what certain publishers have believed, Green Lama is not in the public domain.) This particular iteration was from his self-titled series, which came out from the Spark Comics line and ran from 1944-1946. Volume One contains the first four issues.
This particular iteration of the character is Jethro Dumont, a wealthy American who spent years in Tibet studying the Buddhist philosophy of the lamas there. By saying the phrase “Om Mani Padme Hum” and having it echoed from the far away lamasery, Jethro is transformed into the superhuman Green Lama, gifted with flight, superstrength, invulnerability and other powers. He uses these abilities to fight crime as a superhero but hopes someday America will be ready for peaceful Buddhism. Saying the phrase again returns him to mortal form.
You’ll note a strong resemblance to the Golden Age Captain Marvel, and his adventures were drawn by Mac Raboy, who also worked on the Captain Marvel, Jr. feature, and later worked on the Flash Gordon comic strip.
After a short introduction to the character that explains his origin, the first story in this volume is a flashback to one of his first cases. New York City crooks that have made bail are vanishing. The police can’t track them down, so Jethro volunteers to go undercover as a bailed criminal. Sure enough, he’s approached by a recruiter and taken to a ship offshore. They’re creating a “navy of crime!”
The Green Lama allows himself to be caught and is put on trial for interfering with the activities of organized crime. He’s shot with an anti-submarine gun, but is unharmed and drags the entire ship to shore so the police can arrest the criminals.
Of note is that there’s apparently some sort of brain fog associated with the transformation, as onlookers never clue in that Jethro Dumont and the Green Lama are the same person even when he transforms right in front of them.
In the second issue, Green Lama meets Willie the Sleeper, a criminal mastermind who uses a sleeping gas gun. He’s put a lot of thought into ways to inconvenience superheroes like the Lama (and is unfooled by a simple anagrammed alias.) He uses a bomb at an orphanage and a rubber ball prison, which temporarily stymies the hero. Until the Lama simply flies off prison and all to a place that can melt the rubber. Willie escapes prison at the end of the story, but does not reappear in this volume.
This story reveals that Jethro Dumont is allegedly writing a biography of the Green Lama, giving him an excuse for showing up in all the Lama’s cases. (In the pulp stories, author avatar Richard Foster was the biographer.) He also runs a clipping bureau that allows him to research crimes the Lama may need to investigate.
The third issue introduces Falstaff, a gangleader who dresses like the Shakespearean character and specializes in stealing children’s toys. The main interest here is Green Lama trying to figure out Falstaff’s true motives.
Issue four has the most interesting story, as Jethro and his faithful manservant Tsarong learn that Japan’s copied the German “robot bombs.” While the Green Lama believes that America must win the war on its own, he sees nothing wrong with improving their odds by smashing the robot bomb manufacture. So he invades Japan solo.
The anti-Japanese racism isn’t quite as bad as in some other Golden Age comics during the war, but it is heavy on the stereotypes, like overuse of the word “honorable.” There’s also a cameo of a Japanese character named “Kuso” and I do have to wonder if that’s deliberate or Crossen getting lucky with random names. The Green Lama being aware of the value of human life, he doesn’t kill anyone on panel, but he’s not exactly careful about collateral damage. Buy war bonds!
These being thick Golden Age comic books, the Lama wasn’t the only feature in each issue.
“The Boy Champions” are three young fellows in NYC, Tuffy (Bronx accented), Mickey (standard English) and Wellington Smith (educated), who have formed an agency to make money from odd jobs. And odd jobs these are: goat-sitting for a witch, writing poetry, playing flute music for a cobra, and leading a bull through a china shop. In three of these cases, the client turns out to be a criminal using the boys as decoys, and in the fourth, the crooks are impersonating the client. Tuffy’s more or less the star as his ego is easily inflated.
There’s the mandatory for postal regulations text stories in each issue, two of which star amateur detective Professor Sam Hoyle. They’re slight.
“Lieutenant Hercules” by Horace L. Gold is a superhero parody. Nebbish bookkeeper Wilbur Klutz is extorted into impersonating his overbearing boss when that man is threatened by criminals. Not liking life as a human target, Wilbur wishes that he had superpowers like the comic book superheroes. Merlin appears and grants that wish, giving Wilbur the combined powers of all the comic book superheroes. However, the rank of “captain” is overstuffed, so Wilbur has to settle for the nom du guerre Lieutenant Hercules, has a deliberately unstylish costume, and his “magic word” is blowing a raspberry.
Despite some teething pains trying to figure out how to use his powers, Lt. Hercules solves the case. But his wife does not believe a word of it. (She may have divorced him as she’s not seen in subsequent stories.)
In the second issue, Wilbur decides to become a hero for hire, and his first job is moving a building. A Treasury building, so that criminals can rob it. He manages to clobber the baddies and return the building, but since he got it back before anyone noticed it was gone, there’s no reward.
The story has Lieutenant Hercules approached by an eccentric millionaire who will give him money if the hero accomplishes three impossible tasks. The millionaire has no intention of actually paying up, but Wilbur manages to succeed on a technicality.
Merlin returns for his cut of Wilbur’s earnings, and they visit Comic Land, home of the comic strip characters. Lieutenant Hercules helps the snobbish police detective Trick Dacy capture a criminal.
These stories are mildly funny, but I can see why the character never caught on.
“Pop Flys” by Al Lieberman is a two-page gag strip about a boxing manager and his goofy protege. Pound for pound, it’s funnier than Lieutenant Hercules. The funniest one is when they go on vacation and the boxer fistfights a bear.
“Rick Masters” is aviation adventure. Rick’s been invalided out of the Army Air Force, but seems to have recovered enough to start his own transport service with his Seminole co-pilot Twin Eagle (aka “Mike”). Twin Eagle is the target of some racism by criminals, but Rick treats him as an equal, and he’s just as good as flying. It’s mentioned that the Seminole never actually surrendered to the U.S. government.
They are hired by criminals three times; once to transport a safe, once to hunt for a buried treasure, and once to provide a venue for illegal gambling. The odd story out has them hired to help finish construction on a bridge that’s being sabotaged by a rival contractor, and we get to see the pair fly helicopters. (This one’s actually pretty tense at the climax.) The stories by Walter Gardner have some clever little mysteries.
“Angus MacErc” by Perry Williams and Bruce Elliott concerns a fairy by that same name. He was once a tall fellow and a member of King Oberon’s court. He stole from the king and was cursed with shrinking. But since he’s immortal and Oberon didn’t specify a time frame, instead of vanishing altogether, over the centuries he’s slowly dwindled until in 1944 he’s a bit less than a foot tall. He’s a mischievous fellow who enjoys schadenfreude.
In the first story, Angus is accidentally caught by a British soldier who demands three wishes. They’re largely wasted, especially the third, since Adolf Hitler was already nuts.
In the second tale, Angus accompanies a fellow who’s figured out where Paracelsus is imprisoned. Paracelsus isn’t too thrilled to be released, as he’s been busy contemplating the mysteries of the universe. The man asks to become younger, and Paracelsus reluctantly grants this to make him go away. Oops, turns out the man didn’t specify how much younger…
Next, Angus goes to Hollywood with a British horror director who’s supposed to learn their terror techniques. Hollywood turns out to be wackier than even our fairy can handle. The funniest bit is that one of the film crew on a vampire movie is an actual vampire who wanted to become a horror star but was considered not “authentic-looking” enough.
Finally, Angus runs into an aging silent movie star who used to be the number one heartthrob, and offers to take him to someone who can grant eternal life and youth. This turns out to be Ponce de Leon, and two other immortality-seekers arrive at the same time. de Leon offers three vials. One contains the elixir of immortality, the other two have deadly poison. Each seeker can drink from only one.
The three seekers quarrel, and they’re sent outside to settle which of them will choose a vial in which order. This goes about as well as expected, but there’s one last twist.
The Hollywood story is the best of this lot.
We also see a house ad from each issue, condemning racism and ethnic prejudice as un-American.
It’s an interesting selection of stories, but unless you’re a big fan of Mac Raboy, it’s probably best to read this at your local library.
