Broken Frontier

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I were talking about some of our most beloved comics.  I’m sure I mentioned The Micronauts and Uncanny X-Men and Preacher and maybe even Alien Legion as a few of my favorites.  I’ve always had a very hard time narrowing my “all-time favorite” down to a single title.  He, on the other hand, was committed to one book and one book only, and he threw around references to The Ultimates the way Thor throws around Mjolnir.  I have nothing against The Ultimates.  I enjoy it quite a bit, actually.  But just to get my friend’s goat, I shrugged nonchalantly and said:

“The Ultimates is all right, I suppose.  I mean, it’s no Power Pack, but it’s okay.”

“Power Pack?” he stammered.  “Isn’t that a kid’s comic?”

Keep in mind, this guy’s in his early twenties, so he doesn’t really remember the original Marvel Comics run of Power Pack, which debuted in those ancient days of 1984.  He’s only familiar with the characters through their current incarnation, which he avoids like the plague, I’m sure.  After all, the cutesiness of the most recent Power Pack incarnations are so diametrically opposed to the ultra-realistic and gritty feel of The Ultimates that if you put copies of the two books next to each other, the resulting matter/anti-matter explosion might set off a chain reaction causing all of comicdom to implode!

But his response took me aback just a bit, and painful memories started playing through my mind—memories of an entire classroom full of kids laughing at me …

Memories of Power Pack.

I make no excuses.  I loved the original run of Power Pack, especially the early issues.  I say that nowadays, and folks tend to smirk or chuckle under their breath.  But the book was really good, and there are titles I’m much more ashamed of enjoying (Rob Liefeld’s X-Force springs to mind).  With Power Pack, though, I went through a trial by fire that almost turned me against the book forever, and it happened in my seventh grade study hall. 

Study hall was my second favorite time of the school day, second only to the final dismissal bell.  During study hall, if I didn’t have much homework, I could relax and sit back with some comics, a dog-eared stack of which I almost always carried around in my backpack.  Over the years, favorite study hall reads included G.I. Joe, Uncanny X-Men, and Groo the Wanderer. 

My desk in study hall was right next to the desk of one of the most popular kids in school.  All the girls liked him.  He played (and usually captained) all the sports teams.  He was always accompanied by a band of flunkies.  To be honest, I don’t really remember his name any more, but Mike sounds right, so that’s what we’ll call him.  Although he would never admit it back in those days, Mike liked comics.  Whenever I had a few on my desk, he’d lean over and ask if he could borrow a few.  Of course, he acted as if he just didn’t have anything better to do, but he didn’t just flip through the pages without paying attention—he really read the books. 

But then I handed him a copy of Power Pack #2.

Here’s a book with a fresh storyline, crisp dialogue, believable characters, and terrific artwork.  The team has believable, interesting superpowers that open the door to all sorts of possibilities, and it was entertaining to see the group experimenting with their newfound abilities.  Sure, the second issue had a few standard “catch-up” moments for readers who had missed the first one, but it was a fun book nonetheless, with several terrific scenes.

Early on, the Power children, who have just been granted their powers by the alien Whitey, get their costumes.  I thought the designs were great, especially for a team of children, but Jack, the rebel of the bunch, had other ideas.

“And little silver booties!” Jack cries.  “Isn’t that sweet?  For a girl!  I think this is a sissy suit!”

Later, the gang spies on Carmody, the businessman who will become a recurring villain in the series.

“This discovery of Power’s is going to revolutionize modern warfare!” Carmody barks into his phone as he wolfs down snacks and sandwiches.  “And that ex-hippie, liberal do-gooder thinks he’s developed a form of cheap, plentiful energy …”

“Did you hear that, Alex?” Katie asks.  “He called our dad a hippie!  And he does want to turn his converter into a weapon!”

“He’s worse than a jerk!” Alex says.  “He’s a—a villain!”

And Jack, who is starving, delivers my favorite line of the book:  “He doesn’t deserve that sandwich!”

The kids continue on a wild adventure, trying to steal sandwiches, dodging guards, and destroying their dad’s invention before the Snarks, a band of evil aliens, can use it as a world-destroying annihilator. 

The snarks, of course, are none-too-pleased, and the issue ends with a terrible threat of things to come:

“Twice the hatchlings have thwarted us!” the snarks hiss.  “But soon they will be our prisoners!  And under our control, they will make potent additions to the Queen Mother’s arsenal!” 

The issue was packed with high-adventure, evil aliens and businessmen, superhero hi-jinx, and wanton destruction.  What more could you ask for?

But Mike never made it past the first page.

The splash page depicted the youngest of the group, Katie, sucking her thumb and throwing a temper tantrum as she cried, “I want my mommy!”

“Waitaminute!” Mike said, loudly enough that everyone in the classroom turned their heads in my direction.  “This comic book’s for babies!”

Now, most of the kids in the room had no idea what Mike was talking about, but he was the most popular kid in our class, so if he laughed, everyone else laughed with him.

Few things are more mortifying than having the most popular kid in school chump you out for reading a “baby’s comic book.”  I’m thinking it ranks somewhere between forgetting to zip your fly and the dead-of-winter-cold-season loogie crack right in front of the cute cheerleader you’ve been pining over.

Had I latent telekinetic death powers, they would have manifested right then.

Instead, I sank down in the uncomfortable seat of my desk … and my shame over Power Pack was born.

The joke at my expense was quickly forgotten by everyone.  Well … almost everyone.  I stopped bringing my comics to school with me.  I spent my free time in study hall writing stories—some of which, I must admit, featured Mike facing some dire fate.  I still read Power Pack, but if anyone asked, I would tell them I was buying it for my little brother.

Even now, when I stumble across back issues of the book, I feel a little embarrassed.

Last weekend, I attended Wizard World Chicago.  Another of my friends brought me an old Power Pack promo poster as something of a joke.  What I quickly learned as a few other people saw the poster is that lots of folks loved the book for its interesting characters and fun plotlines.

I went home and re-read a big chunk of my issues, and I was delighted to find how well they hold up.

So this is my confession.

I’m a Power Pack fan, and I’m not ashamed to say it.

But I’ll still never admit to having Captain Carrot and the Zoo Crew on my want-list.