Holy 70th Birthday, Batman!
I had a busy day yesterday, which is why I missed the big birthday (thanks to Mark Waid for pointing it out). Batman turned 70 years old (funny…he doesn’t look a day over 30), which means I am just over half as old as Batman (I’ll be 36 in June). It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I’ve been a fan for almost all of those 36 years (although, Superman took a lot of my attention up until I was about 5), and in reflecting on Batman, I thought I’d reflect on my experiences with the Caped Crusader.
My first published comic was Batman Adventures #9, a short 5 page story called “The Couch,” which dealt with Bruce Wayne going to a shrink and doing word association. The gimmick was that Bruce would answer the doctor’s line of questioning, but in reality, he was deflecting what he was really thinking, doing his best to protect his secret identity. It was short, sweet and to the point (and drawn by the incomparable Dean Haspiel), but more importantly, it got to the heart of the character. For me, it was somewhat fitting that the very first comic I ever had published was a character that I grew up loving. For me, Batman was my dad, the guy who, like Adam West, had to make a convenient excuse to do something else (which is really sad when you think about it), but he was also my hero. I saw my dad in Batman, and Batman in my dad.
In a way, I never stopped writing Batman, and I probably never will. I am a fan of detective stories, stories of people that suffer tragedy and overcome, and Batman is both of these and much more. I still read Batman stories, and I suppose I’ll never stop. I wonder…when I’m 66 and Batman is 100, will I still be reading?
Hey, will I have written more Batman stories by then?
Happy birthday, Batman.
And while you’re out celebrating, remember Bill Finger, the writer who penned Batman’s earliest stories that often gets forgotten.