I have no idea why I would have bought this comic book. I would have guessed that it came in one of those 3-to-a-bag packs that were prevalent in this era, but there are no other comics that I read of the same exact vintage, so that seems to let that explanation out. It’s possible that I got this at a little candy store that my Mother would sometimes stop off at after church on Sundays–they had a small assortment of comics for a brief time, and I know I bought some of my earliest comics there. It’s just a strange choice for a young kid–I know for sure that I would have been embarrassed if any of my peers saw me with a copy of LOIS LANE. So I don’t know–maybe it was the only Superman title available, or perhaps there was something in its Bob Oksner cover that intrigued me.
The story in this issue is fairly forgettable, and in truth I have forgotten most of it again already. As this point the LOIS LANE series was near the end of its long lifespan, caught in the crossfire between the daffy Lucille Ball-like antics that used to define Lois’ magazine and the move into more thoughtful fare in the midst of the Women’s Lib movement. It seems like DC’s editors and creators were never quite able to find the necessary balance, and so in this period produced stories that were often just as silly or absurd as those of the early 1960s.
As was typical for much of his writing, the story, edited by DC mainstay Robert Kanigher lurches almost randomly from incident to incident in a stream-of-consciousness fashion. It was actually written by Arnold Drake, a fact that I had forgotten over the years, as Drake’s work tended to be, on average, better than this.
The story opens with Lois trying to get an interview with some musicians, disguising herself to gain access to their just-landed plane. Succeeding in this, the group lets Lois accompany them in their limo–which promptly goes off of a cliff. Superman appears to catch the plummeting auto, and Lois’s story is good enough that it beats out her rival-yet-friend Melba in Perry White’s eyes–convincing Perry to make Lois the acting editor of the Daily Planet while he goes on sabbatical. From there, Lois is accosted by Ronald Devon, a brilliant young scientist who has turned himself into a human bomb. He proceeds to handcuff himself to Lois, letting the world know that he will blow the two of them (and Metropolis as well-the explosive he has invented is that powerful) to smithereens if the person who betrayed him does not come forward. Problem is, Devon won’t name that person, so it’s up to Superman to suss out and interview all of the potential suspects, while Lois stalls Devon.
Turns out that the betrayer was Ronald’s mentor Dr. Trevors, who claimed credit for discovering the new explosive that was actually Devon’s discovery. Confessing his sins, Trevors tries to kill himself, but Superman is fast enough to stop the bullet and prevent this. In he end, Devon is arrested, and Lois laments that she’s still got 59 days of being editor left, but without Superman to share the success with, it is empty.
I haven’t said much about the art. it is workmanlike. John Rosenberger was a competent craftsman who had spent much of his career as a romance artist, and who also drew The Jaguar for Archie Comics. Here, his work is subdued by Vince Colletta, one of the most divisive inkers in the history of comics. Some like Vince’s work, but I was never a fan of his messy, overpowering lines or the way he would cut corners to get a job done quickly. He certainly does Rosenberg no favors here. Really, the only thing to recommend this issue is the cover–and it has virtually nothing to do with the tepid story inside. There’s a one-panel future vision that’s shown at one point to try to justify the cover, but it’s as transparent a ploy as it’s possible to have. This disconnect between a compelling cover image and the story that awaited a reader is one of the things that I think contributed to DC’s fading fortunes over the years–you simply could not feel confident that you’d get satisfaction for your twenty cents.
The Tom Brevoort Experience 