The Stolen Costume
Reviewed by Bruce Dettman

Whatever their faults-and I would be lying if I didn't admit that they had their share-my late parents were generous with my brother and I, and not just in the weekly allowances we received (provided the lawns were mowed, the cars washed, the trash burned, the garage cleaned, etc.), or the gifts we were given at Christmas and on our birthdays, but in the time they spent with us. My father, although not a professional carpenter, knew his way around a woodshop and often spent his precious Saturdays building things for us. In particular I recall him creating a wonderful shield with the drawing of a fire-breathing dragon on it when I was going through a brief knight in shining armor period (I think this lasted about two weeks before Zorro took over). To his credit-and to my mother's as well-they went the extra mile for their kids. This even included my dad escorting me to the monthly Cub Scout meetings at the local elementary school which I know he loathed and which forced him to give up his beloved beginning-of-the-weekend martinis and a chance to stay up late on the couch watching old movies (hopefully with his two favorite female movie stars Ava Gardner and Maureen O'Hara).

But of all the gifts I was bought or the things that were built for me in that wonderful garage, the one thing that eclipsed all others was my fourth grade Halloween costume, my Superman suit. I had wanted to 'Trick or Treat' as Superman for years but in my backyard recreations of the Man of Steel's exploits I had been content, like most of my contemporaries, with a towel tied around my neck. This just wouldn't do for Halloween, however, and yet I was not crazy about the Superman costumes they sold in stores. The manufactures of these outfits just hadn't gotten the look right. What it looked like was a costume and I wanted something more realistic, something as close to what George Reeves wore as I could possibly get. It was obviously time for my father to put down his martini shaker and his Time Magazine and for my mother to hold off pasting stamps in her S&H Green Stamps booklets and help me out on this thing.
And they did just that.

My mother went to J.C. Penny's and returned with some long underwear in my size. My father then dyed them the proper shade of blue. This completed, he took them out to his shop where he had made a stencil of Superman's "S" emblem and traced this on the fabric.

For the Man of Steel's trunks we used a red swimming suit which when coupled with an old yellow belt of a neighbor's was perfect for around my waist. My boots were long red stockings which my mother sewed leather soles on. Finally, she cut and sewed a red cape for me and once again my father stenciled on the "S." As soon as the paint was dry I was set. Nothing in my mind had ever been so grand.

My wearing it, of course, did not end at Halloween. That was just the beginning. From that time on the suit was never far from me. In fact, it was usually worn beneath my street clothes. On one occasion I tried to bring it to school under my jeans and shirt but somehow Mrs. Tootle, my fourth grade teacher, busted me and warned that I'd be in big trouble if I wore it to class again. No matter. School might be out, but in addition to wearing it when I was at a play I had it on beneath my sports coat and slacks when my parents and I went out to dinner, to visit their friends or to other events. I was even busted once by my brother, when I wore it to relative's wedding, mainly because I also put on my glasses to attend and these were normally only for reading purposes. He peaked under my shirt, laughed and just shook his head in that 'God, my squirt of a kid brother is such a little moron' look that I had come to know so well but at least he didn't say a word to my mom or dad.

Eventually, of course, I grew out of the suit, both physically and in terms of what I was doing in my life. There was always a place in my heart and memory for Superman but he was no longer the center of my existence as he had once been. The years rolled by and the suit was at first relegated to a corner of my close closet and eventually my mother retrieved it for dusting purposes. What I wouldn't give to have saved it for posterity.

The suit, not mine but Superman's, is of course the main focus of The Stolen Costume from the first season of TAOS. Based on a script from the Superman radio series with a television adaptation by Ben Peter Freeman and directed by Lee Sholem, this is the story of a petty thief nicknamed T-Ball (Norman Budd) who while pursued by the police breaks into Clark Kent's apartment and inadvertently stumbles upon the secret closet where the reporter keeps his Superman duds when not wearing them. As it turns out, as part of an insurance policy requirement at the Daily Planet, Clark has to have a doctor's physical and obviously cannot have on the suit at this time. Don't ask me why a doctor wouldn't find something unusual about the reporter's "super" body during the examination. In any case, the wounded T-Ball takes the outfit to his two underworld pals Connie (Veda Ann Borg) and Ace (Dan Seymour) before dying. Ace thinks the costume is a phony but Connie believes it's the real McCoy, particularly after she tries unsuccessfully to cut and burn it. The cigar chopping Ace is a bit slow on the uptake but when she explains to him that everyone figures that Superman has a secret alter ego he buys into her theory that at the moment he's being "the other guy." All they now have to do is find out who the "other guy" is and blackmail him.

Meanwhile Kent has returned home to discover that his irreplaceable suit is gone. Near frantic he contacts a private detective pal named Candy (Frank Jenks) but there's a problem, a big one. The reporter wants his pal to help find the suit but he can't tell him what he's supposed to be looking for. From this point on most of the dialog between them sounds like an Abbott and Costello routine:

"And they took something. I want to find out who it was and get it back."

"Get what back?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, Candy!"

Poor Candy. It isn't bad enough that he's been given an impossible job to do or that he's nearly blown up by a bomb rigged by the charming Connie and Ace, but then the two get it into their noggins that he is actually the Man of Steel despite Connie's hardly brilliant observation that "He [Candy] don't look like Superman to me but I guess when he gets the costume on he looks different."

Kent gets wind of this, realizes that Candy is in danger but can't save the day in his working duds so he races over to his apartment in his reporter civvies, breaks down the door and knocks his friend cold before he knows what's going on.

Unruffled, Ace and Connie still think they're holding the winning hand and try to blackmail Kent but he's having nothing to do with it ("I don't make deals. Save your breath.")

He does, however, have to do something about them. But what exactly?

Here now we have what is probably the most controversial moment in the history of TAOS, how Superman deals with Connie and Ace, the only people in the world (besides Ma Kent) who know his true identity. As he says, he hasn't figured out a permanent solution just as yet (regrettably the amnesia formula from the final season's The Big Forget hasn't been created yet) so, since he can't allow them to run their mouths, he must take temporary steps to silence them. His solution is to fly them to a remote, snow-covered mountain top from which there is no escape but which has a cabin for them to stay in. He warns them not to try and get away and flies off promising to return soon with more supplies.

Of course Ace and Connie want nothing to do with this place (Superman, they figure, is not going to return despite his promises) and waste no time in trying to escape. Back in Metropolis Superman had warned them to bring some warm clothing in preparation for their trip but they don't seem to have counted on such severe conditions and certainly not the prospect of some mountain climbing on a steep and snow-covered mountain. Connie in fact is wearing high heel shoes, not exactly Sir Edmund Hillary gear. Ace climbs down first and is successful for a moment but then it's Connie's turn and that's the ballgame. No screams though. Guess even producer Bob Maxwell vetoed that.

As a kid I recall finding this scene not only startling but slightly traumatic. It certainly wasn't what I expected and left me with an odd sort of uneasy feeling, not because someone had died on the show-murders were common during that first season-but because Superman was somewhat complicit in their deaths. Even though Ace and Connie had discovered his secret identity and were certainly crooks themselves did he have a right to strand them on a mountaintop where escape was impossible? Wouldn't he have known they would have tried the impossible and died for their efforts? What about innocent until proven guilty?

It's a question the Superman community has grappled with for years and which Freeman's script stays clear of addressing. What did Superman really think about all of this? Did his ethical principles take a backseat for once as he weighed the possibilities and made a decision based on what was better in the long run for the world? Or did he truly think Ace and Connie would wait for the TV dinners, sleeping bags and subscription to the Book of The Month Club that he was going to bring them?

It's hard to say-hard then, hard now.

April 2009
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