GLADIATOR OF IRON
Will Murray
On those rare occasions when he talked freely about creating
Superman, Jerry Siegel was pretty consistent. In 1941, he
said, "I am lying in bed counting sheep when all of
a sudden it hits me. I conceive a character like Samson,
Hercules and all the strong men I ever heard tell of rolled
into one."
Years later, he put it like this:
"The idea came to me in bed one night. A champion for
good with the strength of Atlas, as invulnerable as a perfect
Achilles, plus the morals of Galahad."
There are some who believe that Siegel should have been
citing more contemporary pulp fiction characters like Zorro,
John Carter of Mars and Doc Savage. Regarding the Doc Savage
influence, Siegel deflected the issue by saying, "Of
course I read Doc Savage at that time, but that is so long
ago that I can't really intelligently answer that question."
That may be, but the early Superman demonstrates some very
specific Doc Savage tricks like putting people to sleep
via pressing on a neck nerve and climbing brick walls by the sheer strength of his fingertips.
Several early Superman plots are lifted straight from the
pages of Doc Savage Magazine with minimal changes.
In the case of Clark Savage, the Man of Bronze, I suspect
Siegel of being disingenuous. As far as I know, Siegel never
commented in print on the impact reading Philip Wylie's novel, Gladiator, had on the
formative Man of Steel. It's been rumored that he reviewed
it glowingly in the May, 1933 issue of his fanzine, Science
Fiction, but that bald assertion has since been debunked.
That Siegel did read it, and was influenced by Wylie's prototypal
superman, Hugo Danner, seems inescapable. If there was a
seminal influence on Superman, more than any other work,
Gladiator was it.
Wylie's biographer says as much in his book.
"One of the main challenges to Wylie in writing Gladiator
was the need to devise spectacular feats for Hugo to perform
and then to make them seem probable," wrote Frederick
Keefer. "Our exposure to the Superman comic strip unfortunately
obscures the originality of many of these inventions, which,
according to Wylie, as well as recent scholars, were 'borrowed'
from Gladiator. Hugo hurtling across a river in a single
leap, bounding fifty feet straight up on the air, holding
a cannon above his head with one arm, killing a shark by
ripping its jaws apart, felling a charging bull with a fist
between the eyes, lifting an automobile by its bumper and
turning it around in the road--all of these were, in 1930,
fresh and new and very exciting to read about."
The story behind Gladiator is intriguing. Philip Wylie
wrote the book in 1926. It was his first novel. Perhaps
wisely, his publisher held it back, thinking that before
releasing such an improbable work, Wylie should first establish
himself. When finally published by Alfred A. Knopf in 1930, Gladiator
constituted Wylie's third opus.
At the turn of the 20th century, Colorado scientist Abednego
Danner is fascinated with the disproportionate strength
possessed by certain insects. Ants are capable of lifting
several times their weight. The grasshopper can jump the
equivalent of a mile. Can these attributes be transferred
to other species? Danner's successful experiments with creating
supernaturally-strong tadpoles lead him to inoculate a newborn
kitten he dubs Samson. At six weeks, Samson can bring down
a full-grown cow as prey.
Danner finally decides to inject this serum into his unborn
child. His goal? "To produce a super-child, an invulnerable
man." He succeeds beyond his wildest dreams.
"He's strong, stronger than a lion's cub," Professor
Danner
tells his distraught wife. "And he'll increase in strength
as he grows until Samson and Hercules would be pygmies beside
him. He'll be the first of a new and glorious race. A race
that doesn't have to fear--because it cannot know harm."
The parallels between Professor Danner and Jerry Siegal
talking about his super-offspring are striking, but possibly
coincidental. It's interesting that neither invoke more
folklore figures like Paul Bunyan or John Henry, or a professional
strongman like Joe Bonomo or Charles Atlas.
Just like baby Clark Kent did in his first published story,
Hugo breaks his crib apart. (A cage of iron replaces it.)
And like the young Superman, he learns that he is not simply
stronger than normal, but possesses unbelievable speed,
endurance, and leaping abilities.
Hugo is only ten when a run through the woods turns into
a paroxysm of self-discovery:
In those lonely, incredible moments Hugo found himself.
There in the forest, beyond the eye of man, he learned that
he was superhuman. It was a rapturous discovery. He knew
at that hour that his strength was not a curse. He had inklings
of his invulnerability.
He ran. He shot up the steep trail like an express train,
at a rate that would have been measured in miles to the
hour rather than yards to the minute. Tireless blood poured
through his veins. Green streaked at his sides. In a short
time he came to the end of the trail. He plunged on, careless
of obstacles that would have stopped an ordinary mortal.
After expending all his energy, Hugo has a talk with his
father:
"I can do things, dad, it kinds of scares me. I can
jump
higher'n a house. I can run faster'n a train. I can pull
up big trees
and push 'em over."
"That medicine changed you," Professor Danner
explains.
"It altered the structure of your bones and muscles
and nerves
and your blood. It made you into a different tissue from
the
weak fiber of ordinary people. Then--when you were born--you
were
strong. Did you ever watch an ant carry many times its weight?
Or
see a grasshopper jump fifty times its length? The insects
have
better muscles and nerves that we have. And I improved your
body
till it was relatively that strong. Do you understand?"
"Sure, I'm like a man made out of iron instead of meat."
"That's it, Hugo. And, as you grow up, you've got to
remember
that. You're not an ordinary human being. When people find
that out,
they'll--they'll--"
"They'll hate me?"
"Because they fear you. So you see, you've got to be
good
and kind and considerate--to justify all that strength.
Some day
you'll find a use for it--a big, noble use--and then you
can make
it work and be proud of it. Until that day, you have to
be humble
like all the rest of us. You musn't show off or do cheap
tricks.
Then you'd just be a clown. Wait your time, son, and you'll
be glad
of it. And--another thing--train your temper. You must never
lose
it. You can see what would happen if you did? Understand?"
He might have been Jonathan Kent counseling his adopted
son, Clark.
There had been inhumanly strong characters in fiction
before--those whose powers bordered on superhuman. John
Carter of
Mars gained superior strength and the ability to leap great
distances after being translocated to the weaker gravity
of Mars.
A similar idea drove John W. Campbell's Aaron Munro, the
hero of
his 1934 novel, The Mightiest Machine. Having been born
on
heavy-gravity Jupiter, Munro possessed inhuman strength
on Earth.
Pulp precursors like Frederic Dey's Nightwind and Max Brand's
Whistling Dan Barry pushed the limits of human pulp potential
into
tall tale territory.
Outside of the pulp magazines, an obscure turn of the century
newspaper strip character called Hugo Hercules could lift
a fire engine, outrun a streetcar and once kicked a house
into the next block. (This particular case of parallelism
would seem to be pure coincidence. Wylie was born in 1902.
Hugo Hercules only ran from 1902-03.)
But Hugo Danner was something new. A quantum leap forward
in the concept of the preternaturally-powerful protagonist.
Not just powerful by human standards, Danner was strong
by superhuman standards. Whether by the stands of literature
or pulp fiction, this was a daring and revolutionary concept,
which required an almost-superhuman suspension of disbelief
on the part of the reader.
Gladiator follows the roller coaster career of Hugo Danner
from child of iron, through college, (which is he forced
to quit
after accidentally killing an opposing player in a football
game.)
into a period as a circus strongman, and another where he
renounces
his powers only to suffer misunderstanding when, to rescue
a man
locked in a bank vault, he secretly frees him by strength
alone,
and is accused of doing something underhanded.
Confused and unhappy, Hugo drifts over to Paris. When World
War I breaks out, Danner joins the French Foreign Legion,
and in
the muddy trenches, discovers the ultimate secret of his
power:
Across the gray ashes was a long hole. In front of it a
maze of wire. In it--mushrooms. German helmets. Hugo gaped
at
them. All that training, all that restraint, had been expended
for
this. They were small and without meaning. He felt a sharp
sting
above his collar bone. He looked there. A row of little
holes had
appeared in his shirt.
"Good God," he whispered, "a machine gun."
But there was no blood. He sat down. He presumed, as a
casualty, he was justified in sitting down. He opened his
shirt by
ripping it down. On his dark-tanned skin there were four
red marks.
The bullets had not penetrated him. Too tough! He stared
numbly at
the walking men. They had passed him. The magnitude of his
realization held him fixed for a full minute. He was invulnerable!
He should have known it--otherwise he would have torn himself
apart by his own strength. Suddenly he roared and leaped
to his
feet. He snatched his rifle, cracking the stock in his fervor.
He
vaulted toward the helmets in the trench. There, he makes
short work of them.
For, beyond simple strength, Hugo possessed a gift others
who came before him lacked: invincibility. Not since Achilles'
mother dipped him in the River Styx, conferring upon him
virtual
invulnerability to physical harm, had there been such a
hero.
Unlike Homer's creation, Hugo Danner possessed no vulnerable
spot.
He was invincible from head to heel.
Following his father's advice to keep his powers a secret,
Hugo explains his mighty with a fable:
"Have
you ever heard of Colorado?" Hugo asks a curious
French general.
"I have not heard. It is a place?"
"A place in America. A place that has scarcely been
explored.
I was born there. And all the men of Colorado are born as
I was born
and are like me. We are very strong. We are great fighters.
We cannot
be wounded except by the largest shells."
Change Colorado to Krypton, and it could be Superman talking--
right down to the upper limits of his invulnerability. Wylie
actually
describes his hero in action as "a being of steel."
A one-man army, Hugo Danner accelerates the cessation of
hostilities. He swiftly becomes a battlefield legend:
He was a great man--a man feared. The Colorado of the
Foreign Legion. Men would talk about what they had seen
him
accomplish all through the next fifty years--at watering
places in
the Sahara, at the crackling fires of country-house parties
in
Shropshire, on the shores of the South Seas, on the moon,
maybe.
Old men, at the last, would clear the phlegm from their
skinny
throats and begin: "When I was a-fightin' with the
Legion in my
youngest days, there was a fellow in our company that came
from
some place in wild America that I disrecollect." And
younger, more
sanguine men would listen and shake their heads and wish
that
there was a war for them to fight.
After
the Armistice, Hugo doesn't know what to do with
himself. War lost its glory for him when in an episode Wylie
clearly
took from The Iliad. Like Achilles, Hugo loses a close friend
to
war and vents his unstoppable wrath upon his foes, in this
case
the Germans.
Returning to New York, Danner ponders his future:
What would you do if you were the strongest man in the
world, the strongest thing in the world, mightier than the
machine? He made himself guess answers for that rhetorical
query.
"I would--I would have won the war. But I did not.
I would run the
universe single-handed, literally single-handed. I would
scorn the
universe and turn it to my own ends. I would be a criminal.
I would
rip open banks and gut them. I would kill and destroy. I
would be a
secret, invisible blight. I would set out to stamp crime
off the
earth; I would be a super-detective, following and summarily
punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a
felony.
What would I do? What will I do?"
This is the pivotal point in the novel, the beginning of
the
critical last act in the strange saga of Hugo Danner, seminal
superman.
Wylie referred to it when he penned a rarely-seen introduction
to Gladiator for its pre-hardcover publication appearance
in the
March, 1930 issue of The Book League Monthly.
"A temperamental consciousness of material force brought
Hugo
Danner into being. The frustration of my own muscles by
things, and
the alarming superiority of machinery started the notion
of a man
who would be invincible. I gave him a name and planned random
deeds
for him. I had him tear down Brooklyn Bridge and lift a
locomotive.
Then I began to speculate about his future and it seemed
to me that
a human being thus equipped would be foredoomed to vulgar
fame or
to a life of fruitless destruction. He would share the isolation
of geniuses and with them would learn the inflexibility
of man's
slow evolution. To that extent Hugo became symbolic and
Gladiator
a satire. The rest was adventure and perhaps more of the
book
derives from the unliterary excitement of imagining such
a life
than from a studious juxtaposition of incidents to a theme."
It would be interesting the speculate on where the career
of Hugo Danner might have taken him had he followed the
super-
detective impulse in the traditional heroic mold. Interesting,
but
ultimately fruitless. Hugo Danner is a walking tragedy.
On the eve of this crusade, Hugo is summoned home by
Professor Danner. Rushing to his father's death bed, Hugo
lays
out his intentions:
"I except to go to Washington soon to right the wrongs
of
politics and government. Vicious and selfish men I shall
force
from their high places. I shall secure the idealistic and
the
courageous. The pressure I shall bring against them shall
be
physical and mental. Here a man will be driven from his
house
mysteriously. There a man will slip into limbo. Yonder an
inconspicuous person will suddenly be braced by a new courage;
his enemies will be gone and his work will progress unhampered.
I shall be as an invisible agent of right--right as best
I can
see it."
True to his vow, Hugo goes to Washington. Danner is a lot
like the early Superman when he confronts the first public
enemy
he decides to make an example of, a corrupt pro-war lobbyist
named Willard Melcher.
After making short work of a bodyguard ("The tough
one drew
back his fist, but he never understood afterwards what had
taken
place. He came to in the kitchen an hour later.") Hugo
gives
Melcher an ultimatum to get out of Washington, or face his
wrath.
"I happen to be more than a man, I am--" he hesitated,
seeking words--"let us say, a devil, or an angel, or
a scourge. I
detest you and what you stand for. If you do not leave--I
can ruin
your house and destroy you. And I will."
Melcher appeared to hesitate. "All right. I'll go.
Immediately. This afternoon."
Hugo was astonished. "You will go?"
"I promise. Good afternoon, Mr. Danner."=
Hugo rose and walked toward the door. He was seething with
surprise and suspicion. Had he actually intimidated Melcher
so
easily? His hand touched the knob. At that instant Melcher
hit him
on the head with a chair. It broke in pieces. Hugo turned
around
slowly.
"I understand. You mistook me for a dangerous lunatic.
I
was puzzled for a moment, Now--"
Melcher's jaw sagged in amazement when Hugo did not fall.
An instant later he threw himself forward, arms out, head
drawn
between his shoulders. With one hand Hugo imprisoned his
wrists.
He lifted Melcher from the floor and shook him. "I
meant it, Melcher.
And I will give you a sign. Rotten politics, graft, bad
government,
are doomed." Melcher watched with staring eyes while
Hugo, with his
free hand, rapidly demolished the room. He picked up the
great desk
and smashed it; he tore the stone mantlepiece from its roots;
he
kicked the fireplace apart; he burst a hole in the brick
wall--
dragging the bulk of a man behind him as he moved.
"Remember that, Melcher. No one else on earth is like
me--and I will get you if you fail to stop. I'll come for
you if you squeal about this--and I leave it to you to imagine
what will happen."
Hugo walked into the hall. "You're all done for--you
cheap swindler. And I am doom." The door banged. This
personifies still another Siegel summation of his
original Superman inspiration: "A combination Samson,
Hercules and
Atlas plus the morals of Sir Galahad whose mission is to
smack down
the bullies of the world."
Moving on, Hugo discovers only disappointment and
frustration. He takes on Washington with the idea of reforming
the nation, only to discover that no matter how powerful
one is,
the schemes and foibles of greedy humanity are greater still.
The
grandiose plan to reform the world crumbles in disillusionment.
His dream in collapse, he once again ponders his fate:
Hugo realized at last that there was no place in this
world for him. Tides and tempest, volcanoes and lightning,
all
other majestic vehemences of the universe had a purpose,
but he
had none, either because he was all those forces unnaturally
locked in the body of a man, or because he was a giant compelled
to stoop and pander to live at all among his feeble fellows,
his
anachronism was complete. Deciding to join an expedition
to Mayan ruins in Yucatan, Hugo Danner finally meets someone
who understands and appreciates his value to the world.
Atop a rainswept mountain, Hugo Danner meets his ultimate
fate.
Reading the final chapter of Gladiator, you get the feeling
that Philip Wylie simply didn't know what to do with his
superhuman protagonist. How could he? He was not writing
escapist
pulp adventure, but literature. He had no guideposts, no
fixed
star to follow. By the conservative standards of early 20th
Century literature, the superman was doomed by virtue of
being a
superman.
It took Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster to show that wasn't
necessarily so. After 1938, it was okay to be Superman.
Provided
you bent your abilities to constructive ends, and didn't
attempt
to run the world for humankind.
Gladiator became a best-seller--a rare accomplishment for
a science fiction novel at that time. Wylie went on to write
more science fiction novels, The Murderer Invisible, When
Worlds
Collide, and its sequel, After Worlds Collide, which were
adapted
as a newspaper strip called "Speed Spaulding"
in 1938, the year
Superman debuted in Action Comics.
In When Worlds Collide, a rogue planet enters the solar
system on a certain collision course with Earth. Earthmen
build
rockets to escape the doomed Earth, which will take them
to a new
life on a newly-discovered Earthlike planet. People point
to Edgar
Rice Burroughs' John Carter of Mars and Jack Williamson's
The Girl
From Mars as probable inspirations for the infant Superman's
flight
to Earth, but Wylie's best selling 1932 novel is just as
likely.
As Joe Shuster put it, "Jerry reversed the usual formula
of
the superhero who goes to another planet. He put the superhero
in
ordinary, familiar surroundings, instead of the other way
around,
as was done in most science fiction."
Jerry Siegel is said to have denied ever reading Gladiator.
There are rumors that Philip Wylie threatened to sue DC
Comics
for copyright infringement in the early 40s. DC management
had
Siegel produce a point-by-point refutation of the charge.
No suit
was filed, as far as anyone knows. Rumor has it that Wylie
backed
down when he discovered his publisher had neglected to copyright
Gladiator in the first place. He hadn't a legal leg to stand
on.
But if you read through the earliest issues of Action
Comics, the coincidences sure do pile up, starting with
Clark
Kent's decision to keep his origin and powers a secret.
Some of the earliest challenges Siegel gives the Man of
Steel are right out of Gladiator. In the two-part story
published
in Action Comics #1 and #2, once Superman and Clark Kent
are
introduced Kent is assigned to cover a war in the South
American
republic of San Monte. Instead of following his editor's
instructions, he goes instead to Washington DC, where he
bullies an
unsavory lobbyist named Alex Greer. This leads the Man of
Steel to
the munitions magnate behind the war, Emile Norvell. Superman
runs
him out of town and down to San Monte where, in a series
of scenes
reminiscent of Hugo Danner's mighty exploits in the Great
War, the
Man of Steel enforces his own brand of peace.
In Action #4, a disguised Superman infiltrates a college
football team, becoming the tackle to end all tackles, in
an effort
to root out criminal influence. In college, Hugo Danner
proved to
be a one-man football team. At one point in Gladiator, Hugo
does
some prizefighting, but walks away from a lucrative career
in the
ring. One of the earliest Superman newspaper sequences puts
the
Man of Steel in a similar situation. And while World War
I was
long over by the time the Man of Steel reached adulthood,
Superman
was interceding in European ground wars on the eve of World
War
II, performing much the same cannon-crushing feats as Hugo
Danner
a generation before.
The peculiar and definite combination of powers, not just
super strength, but the fresh concept of super speed, with
the
addition of near-total invulnerability, is simply too much
for
coincidence.
Like Wylie, Siegel invokes the ant and the grasshopper as
a rationale for Superman's powers in a feature page in Superman
#1. Why not take a page from Tarzan and say Superman possesses
the
strength of a hundred gorillas? Just as the pre-flying Superman
would literally race across states to get somewhere, Hugo
charges
around at speeds that eclipse that of even upper-limit human
endurance. And the number of times the early Superman outraces
locomotives to save a human life makes one think Siegel
was
already running out of amazing feats for his Man of Tomorrow
to
perform.
Of course, over a long career the Man of Steel might
eventually find himself on the battlefield, the gridiron,
or
even in the ring. But these striking parallels all occur
within
the first year of his career. It's as if Siegel was squeezing
every last drop of plot and situation out of the Wylie novel
in
an effort to meet those monthly deadlines.
There are parallels that are probably coincidence. As a
boy, Hugo Danner assembles out of huge boulders a hilltop
fortress
where he can play in solitude. It may be too much of a stretch
to
link this to Superman's classic Fortress of Solitude, since
it
didn't show up until the 1950s and was out of Doc Savage
anyway.
But it smacks of the mountaintop fort the Man of Steel built
in
1942 as retreat from the world.
Even Hugo's straightforward reformist idealism is mirrored
in the early Superman, who was forever shaking crooked mine
owner
and unscrupulous politicians in his mighty fists.
These were not the approaches of Doc Savage or--The Shadow
for that matter. They are the actions of a naive protagonist
in Hugo
Danner's case, and naive creators in Superman's.
Siegel's denials may have been simply to avoid legal action
against him.
It's hard to accept them at face value against the
parallels between Gladiator and the Superman of 1938-40.
Even if
by some extreme unlikelihood he never read the novel, as
a huge
science fiction fan, he could hardly have been unaware of
it. It
was one of the most important science fiction novels of
the
Great Depression. And it was reviewed in Amazing Stories,
June,
1930. And through the 1930s, Philip Wylie stood head and
shoulders
above all other contemporary SF writers. Not stuck in the
pulp
magazine ghetto, he wrote for the best slick magazines and
book
publishers, not to mention adapting the works of H. G. Wells
for
Hollywood. At a time when Science Fiction was confined to
the
literary ghettoes of pulp magazines and comic strips, Philip
Wylie was the genre's Great White Hope.
Being unaware of Philip Wylie and Gladiator is like a modern
science fiction fan not knowing who George Lucas is.
Siegel himself admitted this: "Well, as a science-fiction
fan, I knew the various themes in the field. The superman
theme has
been one of the themes ever since Samson and Hercules..."
Could Jerry Siegel really have been ignorant the most
famous superman novel of the 1930s?
Then there is this: In his first appearance, and only in
his debut, Superman wore instead of the now-classic red
boots, a
type of footgear normally associated with Roman legionnaires,
or
gladiators.
Jerry Siegel did comment on this. Again, he was consistent:
"I had classical heroes and strongmen in mind, and
this
shows in the footwear. ..Superman wore sandals laced halfway
up
the calf. You can still see this on the cover of Action
#1, though
they were covered over in red to look like boots when the
cover was
printed.
It's hard to imagine Siegel and Shuster taking their
emulation of Gladiator to such an obvious extreme, but one
never
knows.
Yet precursors and influences aside, Jerry Siegel and
Joe Shuster accomplished something Philip Wylie never did.
They
created an enduring myth, the first full-blown superhero,
an
an American culture hero that may never expire. This is
a mighty
achievement, no matter where they found their inspiration.
Immediately after Gladiator, and before returning to the
kind of science fiction themes that dominated his career,
Philip Wylie wrote two mainstream novels to please his publisher,
Heavy Laden and Babes and Sucklings.
In his Book League Monthly introduction, he said of them:
Both are realistic stories of people and places which I
had known. The brief I held for realism convinces me less
and less. Space is wide. Man is small. That he exists is
romantic. The novelist now usurps the chair of the educator,
the pulpit of
the preacher, the columns of the journalist. Yet his original
purpose of entertaining may have been his highest purpose.
There, Wylie and Jerry Siegel may have found themselves
on exactly the same page....
HD |