Just A Boy Named Joey

In July of 1966, Stan Lee, working off a plot by artist Steve Ditko, scripted a story of a "regular Joe," as it were--specifically, Joe Smith, who perhaps became the mold for stories that put the problems and concerns of average characters in the spotlight while the issue's title character(s) orbited around them ("Skip" Collins being one example). Joe's story would be appropriately told in a comic where its title character's popularity relied in large part on the fact that he had to constantly deal with the burden of everyday problems, even though he was a hero of great power and, yes, carried great responsibility.

Joe's story begins in a neighborhood gym, where he pursues his dream of being a champion boxer and finally succeeds in pestering convincing one of the fight managers on the premises, Tommy Tomkins, to book a match for him. But, lacking the killer instinct of a ring boxer, Joe washes out as a fighter, and, subsequently, as a wrestler, before Tomkins switches gears for him and lands Joe a job as an extra in a television film. The part is basically for a costumed alien with no dialog who goes on a rampage, which Joe accepts mostly out of appreciation for Tomkins' efforts on his part--but he soon finds his hard luck extends to the stage, though the production's director is pleased under the circumstances.

Unfortunately, the accident has had an effect on Joe, on both a physical and psychological level--with all of the mocking he endured from other fighters at the gym fueling a rage that definitely wasn't part of his script.

And when that rage breaks out to the streets, Joe comes into conflict with Spider-Man, who soon realizes this is no ordinary unhinged fighter he faces. But he learns little else, thanks to Joe's anger reaching a point where he lets his actions speak for him.

Before Spider-Man can return to the scene, Tomkins locates Joe and gets him to safety, just as his head is beginning to throw off the effects of the chemical-electric shock that hit him. It's clear that Tomkins has become sympathetic to the loser status and bad breaks that seem to hang around Joe like an albatross; but his advice to rest is later ignored when Joe begins to re-exhibit the symptoms of the accident while again raving about being a failure. And he decides to take that rage and his returned strength back to the source of his anguish--the fighters at the gym who continually rode him about what a poor excuse for a boxer he made.

Needless to say, Joe's gym "buddies" have a true fight on their hands when Joe lays into them. To make matters worse, Spider-Man arrives, but with a price on his head (thanks to Norman Osborn) which has everyone in the gym joining Joe to put him down. Eventually, Spidey handles the opposition long enough to focus on Joe (you can see Ditko's panels of the brawl in a previous post), just as Joe's head clears once more--apparently for good this time.

It was quite a happy ending for Joe. Or so it seemed.

Which brings us to the streets of New York once more, years later, as a member of the city's Board of Education runs for his life, but cannot outdistance the one who pursues him--a murderous attacker who looks hauntingly familiar to us.

The near-deadly encounter for Martin Harris serves as the opening of the sequel to the Amazing Spider-Man story, which takes place nearly fourteen years later to the month, as another hero attempts to piece together the mystery of this powerful stranger who violently attacks without reason--or, in this case, a reason that no one yet understands.

When Captain America runs into our powerhouse, he's exhibiting the rage we've previously seen manifest in Joe, no doubt, with the exception that this time there is no voiced anger at those who have wronged him, no vows of revenge--and his targets are peculiarly specific, as well. But the man remains as dangerous a threat as ever--and, as his attack against Cap proves, a more savage one.

After comparing notes with the police detective on the scene, things begin to add up for Cap when he learns of Joe's earlier bludgeoning of Harris--while in the back of his mind he also recalls an earlier conversation he (as Steve Rogers) had with friend and neighbor, Josh, who needed an ear to bend concerning a tragedy involving one of the kids he and his fellow staff work with.

But when Steve asks Josh for more details about Joey's father, things alarmingly begin to fall into place.

With all roads now leading to Larry Sawyer, the man who did his best to save Joey's life, Cap begins shadowing him on the assumption that, sooner or later, Joe will target him. The story thus far has been exemplary on the part of Peter Gillis, an unsung writer at Marvel and one of the revolving door of writers who contributed to Captain America while the title was in flux following Jack Kirby's departure and prior to Roger Stern's run with John Byrne. You'll find a number of stories by Gillis featured in the PPC, a talent who turns in steady, reliable work with emphasis on character-driven stories and really should have been given a crack at being CA's regular scripter. Here, he dusts off a character who had a decent enough introduction by Ditko and Lee but who now is given considerable depth which believably expands on the direction of his life from that point on.

Regrettably, Cap's worst fears are realized when it becomes evident that he's not the only one who has been keeping tabs on Larry.

While the process of Steve changing into Cap occurs by necessity, it's really the one flaw in an otherwise well-executed series of events throughout this tale. No matter how seamless the panels above attempt to portray Cap showing up to intervene, Joe could have fatally dealt with his victim in the time it took for Steve to duck out and make the change to his alter-ego. The seconds "saved" by pulling his shield out of his portfolio are really negligible in that respect; since he would have had to grab his shield in any case, it's more accurate to say that his shield being thus available was simply handy, rather than being retrieved in any time-saving manner.

At any rate, Cap's life-or-death struggle with Joe to save the life of the innocent man who might very well die by his hand is on--but Cap battles not only with his usual skill, but with powerful words that are meant to reach his foe more firmly than his fists. As a result, the true climax to Gillis's story occurs when those words impact on Joe like sledgehammers.

While Joe's defeated verbal response serves to signal the end of his rampage, it might have been a more powerful scene to simply have him sinking to the ground, which speaks volumes on its own. Given what we've seen, he's likely still deep in the grieving process and probably isn't yet in the presence of mind to ask for help--nor does the reader need such closure, when the proof of Joe's internal struggle is right before our eyes.

I'm not at all sure if Joe is brought back for a follow-up on this story. Something is tugging at my head in that regard, but I may be confusing him with Crusher Hogan, another character from Spider-Man's early days (the earliest, in fact) who gets his own sequel over twenty years later (courtesy of Tom DeFalco). But if this turns out to be the last we see of Joe Smith, it's a satisfactory conclusion we've been given to his story--as with many tragedies, sometimes there really is nothing more to say.

Captain America #246 Script: Peter Gillis Pencils: Jerry Bingham Inks: Alan Gordon Letterer: Jim Novak