Superman versus the Ku Klux Klan

by Richard Bowers

  The radio show remained true to the comic book formula of an all-American hero championing the rights of the little person, while embellishing the story line for kids who enjoyed hearing their favorite characters on the radio as well as reading panel-by-panel adventures in comic books. The radio scriptwriters gave Clark and Lois’s newspaper the name the Daily Planet and added the roles of cranky editor Perry White and copyboy Jimmy Olsen. They also came up with the lift off phrase “Up, up, and away!” and dreamed up the deadly green kryptonite—the rocklike substance from Superman’s home planet that drained his powers and left him defenseless. So, day after day at 5:15 p.m., just before the dinner hour, millions of children—and many of their parents—tuned in to hear Superman take on his evil adversaries, swoosh through the sky, plow through mountains, turn back tidal waves, and save Lois Lane from certain death. Each 15-minute mini-drama ended with a dramatic cliff-hanger, followed by a breathless promo for “the next thrilling episode.”

  The action in the studio was nearly as dynamic as the stories that went out live over the airwaves. With Duchovny directing, the cast crammed their rehearsal time into one hour before the live, on-air performance. Against the backdrop of a large painting of Superman on the studio wall, actors rehearsed their lines, writers tweaked the dialogue, and the three-man sound-effects team tested audio embellishments ranging from bombs exploding to shots firing to crickets chirping. As the studio clock reached the appointed time, announcer Jackson Beck opened the story, and the drama began. The actors read their scripts at a five-foot-tall stand with a microphone that had the network name, MUTUAL, arched above the mouthpiece. Actor Bud Collyer, playing the roles of Clark Kent and Superman, dropped his voice an octave with the words, “This looks like a job for … [dramatic pause] Superman!” Actress Joan Alexander captured the spunk of the gutsy Lois Lane, who gushed over the dreamy Superman.

  The sound crew used special equipment—or sometimes household items—to create sound effects, such as firing a blank gun to replicate a gunshot or plunging a knife into a melon to replicate a stabbing. The control room also employed a wide range of recorded sound effects, from cheering crowds to shattering glass to racing cars. (The sound of Superman in flight was a mixture of a wind tunnel and an artillery shell.) The Hammond organist enlivened the show with the rousing “March of Superman” and marked tense moments with eerie dramatic tones. And so, day after day, week after week, in episode after episode, Superman battled gangsters, evil scientists, foreign agents, bank robbers, smuggling rings, and corrupt politicians.

  The radio show was no more immune to criticism than the comic books were. Some critics claimed that Superman reflected the concept of der Übermensch, a German term that could be translated into “the Superman.” The term was coined by 19th-century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who argued that certain people could transcend the influences of religion, culture, and conformity to become enlightened supermen. According to Nietzsche, the person could reach this pinnacle by rising above the pestering of the masses, who buzz like “flies in the marketplace.” After Nietzsche’s death, the German Nazis twisted his words to mean that their ideal of the blond, blue-eyed German (what they called Aryan) could rise above all “inferiors” to create a dominant race of supermen.

  The criticism that Superman manifested a Nazi concept showed a complete lack of understanding of the character. While striving to create a popular superhero who would attract a mass audience, Jerry and Joe had forged Superman to embody the best parts of the American way of life and to raise awareness of “un-American” attitudes. The notion of un-American behavior applied not only to gangsters who broke the law, crooked politicians who violated the public trust, and wealthy industrialists who exploited workers, but also to foreign powers that threatened democracy. So Superman’s creators—too busy to be sidetracked by the critics—aimed their superhero at the looming Nazi threat in Europe.

  * CHAPTER 13 *

  THE SECRET WEAPON

  THE CREATORS of the Superman character had been firing their initial salvos at the then undeclared enemy even before the United States entered the war. At first the creators kept their attacks subtle—by comic book standards. Superman writers never mentioned German chancellor Adolf Hitler, Japanese emperor Hirohito, and Italian dictator Benito Mussolini by name, even though it was clear that the jabs and barbs were aimed at these Axis leaders, as well as their ruthless lieutenants, devious spies, and formidable combat troops. Furthermore, Superman’s team sought to hammer home to their readers that the foreign dictators followed a philosophy of racial and religious superiority and that their quest for world domination included plans to conquer America.

  At about that time, nationally circulated Look magazine commissioned Siegel and Shuster to create a strip entitled “How Superman Would End the War.” For that special assignment, the collaborators took off their gloves and actually named Hitler as the target. So in the pages of Look the caped crusader grabbed the Führer by the scruff of the neck and growled, “I’d like to land a strictly non-Aryan sock on your jaw.” Instead of taking justice into his own hands, however, Superman delivers Hitler to a tribunal of world leaders to face justice. In another direct challenge in a Superman newspaper strip the caped crusader demolishes part of the German Westwall with France.

  That’s when Superman’s fictionalized triumphs over the Nazis came to the attention of the German ministerial bureau that tracked foreign press commentary. The German propagandists did not respond well to the Superman stories, and the U.S. press covered their response. U.S. newspaper reports that infamous Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels exploded in a meeting over the Superman anti-Nazi crusades were almost certainly exaggerated if not outright false. But it is true that Das Schwarze Korps, the weekly newspaper of the infamous Nazi Secret Service, denounced Superman. In April 1940 the paper ran the proclamation, “Superman ist ein Jude!” (“Superman is a Jew!”) The sarcastic, mocking piece referred to Superman’s primary creator as Jerry “Israel” Siegel and accused him of sowing “hate, suspicion, evil, laziness, and criminality in young hearts”:

  Jerry Siegel, an intellectually and physically circumcised chap who has his headquarters in New York, is the inventor of a colorful figure with an impressive appearance, a powerful body, and a red swim suit who enjoys the ability to fly through the ether.

  The inventive Israelite named this pleasant guy with an overdeveloped body and underdeveloped mind “Superman.” He advertised widely Superman’s sense of justice, well-suited for imitation by the American youth.

  As you can see, there is nothing the Sadducees [an ancient Jewish sect] won’t do for money! Jerry Siegellack stinks. Woe to the American youth who must live in such a poisonous environment and don’t even notice the poison they are swallowing daily.

  Superman did reflect the culture of his Jewish creators. The Jewish-American story was baked into the personality of his character and his exploits. Superman also seemed to reflect the more modern—and frightening—Jewish realities of the time. The story of baby Superman’s journey from Krypton seemed to foreshadow the saga of the Kindertransports—the emergency evacuations of hundreds of Jewish children, without their parents, from Nazi Germany to safety in Great Britain prior to the war.

  FOLLOWING THE JAPANESE ATTACK on Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entrance into the war against the Axis alliance, Americans moved to a total war footing. Troops shipped off for combat; industry shifted to the production of planes, ships, and munitions; and newspapers covered all aspects of the raging conflict. Thousands of women began trading their housedresses and aprons for work shirts and khaki slacks to train as welders, riveters, mechanics, and machinists. Their mission was to help transform the nation’s aircraft plants, shipyards, and factories into an industrial war machine.

  Leading columnists issued clarion calls for the defense of democracy and braced their readers for a long, bloody struggle to come. The U.S. War Department set up the Office of Censorship to review, amend, or stop
all media reports that could disclose sensitive information on war strategy, troop locations, or weapons development. It was a new day in America. And comic book publishers sent a new line of superpatriotic characters like Captain America and the Star-Spangled Kid into action.

  Like most Americans, the Superman creative team foresaw the long road ahead and knew that victory hinged on the effectiveness of the nation’s leadership and the bravery and blood of its fighting men. The creators wanted to use Superman to support the war effort, but there was a problem, which Time dubbed “Superman’s Dilemma.” Given the character’s power to soar to the sky, to change the course of mighty rivers, to turn back tidal waves, and to survive massive explosions without a scratch, it only stood to reason that he could single-handedly defeat the enemy in short order. More specifically, Superman ought to be able to drop thousand-pound bombs from the sky on German troops, flick Japanese Zeros out of the air, and drag battleships to the bottom of the ocean.

  In the end the editors decided against publishing what would certainly be several years of highly implausible Superman combat adventures. Instead Superman would be stationed at home in Metropolis and would make only periodic visits to the front lines to support the troops or to handle delicate, secret missions for the top brass. In Metropolis he would serve as a role model for life on the home front, and his encounters with villains like Lex Luthor, the Prankster, the Toyman, and the Insect Master would provide readers with an escape from the weighty issues of the war.

  Once the home-front strategy was set, the writers needed a plot device to explain why the Man of Steel was not joining the Army, Navy, or Marines and going off to war with the rest of the troops. The solution appeared in the “Superman” newspaper strips that ran from February 15 to February 19, 1942. The story begins with Clark Kent arriving at his recruitment center to sign up for duty. The bumbling reporter is so excited about joining the armed forces that he inadvertently botches his eye exam. The reason: His x-ray vision kicks in, and he accidently reads the eye chart in an adjacent room. The doctors declare him 4-F (undraftable) and send him packing. As a result, in the pages of Superman comics, Kent does not don a military uniform for the duration, and Superman is free to influence the war as an outsider.

  The homebound Superman encourages Americans to buy war bonds, to ration scarce supplies, and to donate to organizations like the Red Cross and the United Services Organization (USO). In his adventures, Superman travels outside Metropolis to military training centers to lift the spirits of the troops and to prepare them for the action ahead. In one comic book adventure he travels to a fictional U.S. military training center, where he takes part in a mock war game by taking the side of the blue army in a simulated battle with the red army. Superman ferries blue troops across rivers, bombs red airfields with sandbags, locates red snipers with his x-ray vision, and finally tunnels through a mountain to lead blue troops into the red camp. Facing defeat, the red general implores his men to fight on. “What if they were Japs or Nazis?” he asks. “Would you let down the folks who are counting on you to save your country and the world?” At this point the red army summons the strength to repel the blues and win the game. Superman, happily experiencing a rare defeat, concludes that American soldiers are the real superheroes and congratulates the men for being “Super-Soldiers.”

  Still, from 1941 to 1945 there were stories of Superman’s periodic trips to the front lines. Siegel clearly designed one newspaper strip to draw the attention of American children to the evil of the enemy. In this strip, Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo (Japan’s prime minister) kidnap Santa Claus as part of their plan for world domination. Superman is forced to rescue Old Saint Nick and save Christmas.

  In addition to these occasional war stories, a number of powerful Superman magazine covers trumpeted the war effort, even though there were usually no corresponding stories inside to back up the symbolic cover art: Superman, seen through the periscope of a German U-boat, swimming furiously toward the submarine in the wake of the Allied ship that the sub just sank; Superman holding an eagle on his arm, standing proudly in front of the Stars and Stripes; Superman delivering supplies to an American machine-gun squad fighting in the jungles; Lois Lane, with an Army soldier, a Navy sailor, and a Marine, telling them with a wink, “You’re my Supermen.”

  Through the war years the radio version of Superman, like his counterpart in print, did his part to turn back the Axis powers. In a bid to create the ultimate German villain, the scriptwriters dreamed up Nazi scientist der Teufel (the name means “the Devil” in German). Der Teufel swallows a dose of radioactive kryptonite to turn himself into Atom Man, whose whole existence is dedicated to killing Superman. Der Teufel’s plot fails.

  In 1943, toward the end of the war, Jerry Siegel’s draft number came up, and he took his place with the American troops. As he was a minor celebrity, his send-off was held at a Freedom Day celebration on the Fourth of July in Cleveland, and his duty entailed serving on the staff of the military newspaper Stars and Stripes. As he penned illustrations for the military newspaper and got a taste of army discipline by peeling potatoes, Siegel had plenty of time to think about what might happen to his Superman role while he was away—and while Donenfeld and Liebowitz were banking the revenues generated by the character that Siegel and Shuster had created. For his par, Joe Shuster was exempt from service due to his failing eyesight; he had flunked an eye test like the one Clark Kent failed in the comics.

  But perhaps Superman’s most important war contribution was his direct connection to the troops. The scene of a soldier or sailor passing time with a comic book in hand was common overseas, and Superman was the superhero of choice for most of the servicemen and women. In fact, one of four magazines shipped to troops overseas was a comic book, and 35,000 copies of Superman alone went abroad each month. The U.S. War Department and USO made sure that copies of Superman magazine were distributed to soldiers, sailors, and marines throughout the war. Military leaders hoped to provide a little entertainment and escape until the troops could come back home for good. As Time reported, “Superman got a high priority rating last week: the Navy Department ruled that Superman comic books should be included among essential supplies destined for the marine garrison at Midway Islands. For the tough Marines, as for all U.S. Armed Forces, the Man of Steel is still super-favorite reading.”

  * CHAPTER 14 *

  FIGHTING HATE AT HOME

  KEPT OUT OF THE SERVICE by a bad back, Stetson Kennedy spent the war years tracking the forces of organized hate back in the United States. “I resolved to fight fascists in my own backyard,” he recalled later. Kennedy figured that battling the Klan and homegrown Nazi organizations was a worthy contribution to the cause of democracy, particularly since so many of his friends had shipped off for duty abroad. Kennedy had moved on from his work as a folklorist to become a writer and activist with a clear bead on organized hate in the United States. He moved his base of operation from South Florida to Atlanta, the spiritual home of the modern KKK and a perceived safe haven for other extremist groups. It was a perfect perch for watching his adversaries and reporting on their activities.

  Kennedy penned dozens of exposés for newspapers ranging from the left-leaning PM to the African-American Pittsburgh Courier. Under his byline flowed account after account of Ku Klux Klan violence, political influence, and rituals, as well as predictions of an imminent KKK revival. Kennedy also went to work for a number of organizations that sought to expose and undercut organized hate groups like the Klan and the Nazis. By the spring of 1944 he was going after his enemies with all the confidence and zeal of a real-life Superman, even adopting a secret identity to penetrate their ranks.

  One of Kennedy’s most important clients was the Atlanta branch of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) of B’nai B’rith, an organization dedicated to preventing the defamation of the Jewish people and protecting the rights of all. Kennedy’s friends at the ADL set him up with false identification as an itinerant encyclopedia salesman name
d John S. Perkins. As Perkins, Kennedy subscribed to dozens of hate sheets published by organizations such as the American Gentile Army, the White Front, the Christian Front, and the Union of Christian Crusaders. He continued to cozy up to the Klan.

  Kennedy also worked for an organization called the Non-Sectarian Anti-Nazi League, usually referred to simply as the Anti-Nazi League (ANL). Formed by Jewish intellectuals and businessmen before the war to raise awareness of the German threat, the ANL was now focusing on homegrown hate groups. And it was hiring spies to infiltrate them.

  IN THOSE DAYS one of Kennedy’s biggest challenges was remembering who he was supposed to be at any given moment. While playing the role of hatemonger John Perkins, it could have been fatal to slip up and reveal his true identity as the writer, activist, union organizer, and Klan buster Stetson Kennedy. “I had to remember to keep in mind where I was and who I was talking to,” he would recall later. “This meant a dual life, somewhat precarious.”

  There were many other important voices rising up against the Klan, and many of those voices emanated from the KKK stronghold of Atlanta. Taking on the KKK with the power of his pen, Ralph McGill, the crusading editor of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, often wrote to his readers in the tone of a parent assuring his children that their fears and prejudices were unwarranted:

  There are not many Catholics in Georgia which is a pity in a way because they are almost invariably good Christians, good citizens and worthwhile members of the community, something which has not been possible to say because of all the members of the Ku Klux Klan klaverns in the state … There are not many Jews in Georgia either but they, too, are good citizens. Their contribution is one of hard work and decency. There is no reason to have an organization formed to promote hate and antagonism to Catholics, Jews, foreign-born citizens or any minority groups … If you could get through all the mumbo jumbo business of the kleagels, Cyclops, nighthawks and all the claptrap, you would still find it to be silly, unchristian and dangerous to the peace and dignity of the people.