The Adventures of Superman: The Stolen Costume   

This entry is part of the Favourite TV Show Episode Blogathon hosted by A Shroud Of Thoughts

While mostly remembered today as a kid’s program, the first season of The Adventures of Superman could be downright dark and disturbing. I couldn’t have been the only kid watching the syndicated reruns who was creeped out by the discovery of the dead dog in “The Deserted Village” or the loony wax museum proprietor who “prophesizes” the death of several Metropolis civic leaders, then cages them in her basement, in “Mystery in Wax.”

“The Stolen Costume” was one of the more memorable stories from that first season, offering some truly noir-ish elements and an unforgettable ending.

The Metropolis police are baffled by a burglar who lowers himself by rope into windows. Despite this, Clark Kent leaves his bedroom window wide open and, with the police in pursuit, the thief ducks into his apartment, where he stumbles across the greatest secret in the free world: in a hidden closet, draped on a hangar as if it just came back from the cleaners, is Superman’s costume.

(One of the more interesting sidebars in this episode is its view into Clark’s apartment: primly decorated, Felix Unger-neat and colorless, with the secret closet as the only personal touch).

Fleeing with the costume, the burglar is shot and finds his way to the front door of Metropolis hood Ace and his moll Connie (Dan Seymour and Veda Ann Borg). The burglar, whom Ace recognizes as a local “two-bit punk,” dies on their couch but not before revealing Clark Kent as the costume’s owner.

Candy and Clark -- not to be confused with Candy Clark

His worst nightmare realized, the normally cool and collected Clark is visibly upset, anxiously pacing his apartment. While he can’t say what’s missing, he has a private investigator pal named Candy (Frank Jenks) dust for fingerprints. “What did you have hidden in here, the family jewels?” asks Candy when Clark shows him the secret closet. “No, something a lot more valuable to me,” Clark answers. 

Ace needs more solid proof that Clark is Superman and breaks into his apartment, jimmying the front door this time – Clark may as well start charging admission – to rig an explosive. Ace’s logic? If the bomb goes off, Clark will “either be dead, or we’ll be sitting on top of the world,” a statement that falls well into the category of being careful what you wish for.

The bomb goes off, Clark is alive and a meeting with Ace and Connie is arranged. But earlier in the episode Connie mistook Candy for Clark and when Connie and Ace find him outside Clark’s apartment house, they take Candy away at gunpoint to their apartment.

Clark sees the three drive off and instinctively begins to loosen his tie, then stops when he realizes there’s no costume underneath his street clothes. Moments later, he breaks through Ace and Connie’s front door, then coldcocks Candy so he won’t hear or see what happens next. Ace and Connie threaten to divulge Superman’s secret identity. “How are you going to stop us?” sneers Connie. “Everybody knows Superman doesn’t kill.” “You’re not going to tell anybody,” says a grim Clark, adding, “put on some warm clothes.”

Back in his work clothes, Superman flies Ace and Connie to the summit of a remote, rugged mountain – Ace’s “top of the world.” Superman tells them there is no way down, but there’s a cabin nearby they can call home for now. “You’ll have to stay here until I can think of some way to keep you from talking,” he says before flying off to gather some supplies.

Ace, Connie and Superman on top of the world

Certain that Superman has left them for dead, Ace begins working his way down the mountain. Reaching an icy ledge, he yells for Connie to follow, telling her, “It’s a cinch.” Well, not if you’re wearing a dress and heels. Connie slips and takes Ace with her as they plummet to their deaths.

The episode ends with an obviously relieved Clark, his secret safe and still well-kept.

“The Stolen Costume” moves along briskly with lots of snappy dialogue and interaction between the four characters. The script was written by Ben Peter Freeman, a veteran of the Superman radio show who wrote eight first-season episodes of The Adventures of Superman, including the aforementioned “Mystery in Wax” and “The Deserted Village.” Freeman left Hollywood a year later and changed careers, joining his brother’s construction company.

With the focus on Clark – Superman only appears in its final minutes – George Reeves, always appealing and underrated, gets to bring a bit more emotion than usual and his concern and anxiety feel real. Another sidebar: Of 104 episodes of The Adventures of Superman, this is the only one without Lois, Jimmy, Perry or Inspector Henderson.

Reeve’s supporting cast of Dan Seymour, Veda Ann Borg and Frank Jenks all had long movie and television careers as character actors. Seymour made a living primarily playing gangsters, most famously as one of Edward G. Robinson’s henchmen in “Key Largo.” He would hit the TV Superhero Daily Double 14 years after “The Stolen Costume” with a role in an episode of Batman.

The ending of “The Stolen Costume” neatly resolved what looked like a no-win dilemma for Superman, although it left some ethical and legal questions. Was he planning on holding Ace and Connie hostage on the mountain forever? Was Superman guilty of kidnapping? Did he anticipate the crooks would try to climb down the mountain – a nearly impossible feat – and just looked the other way?

Maybe the last question is the answer. Superman may have rationalized his actions, or lack of action, this way: Having my secret identity revealed could jeopardize the lives of my friends, coworkers, maybe all of Metropolis, and possibly even compromise my mission here on Earth. If I need to realistically balance the lives of two hoods who are likely beyond reform or redemption with that of all mankind, this end justifies the means. Ace and Connie made their choice. My hands are clean.

And with that, Superman finds the moral wiggle room he needed to keep fighting his never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No direction home: Coronet Blue

When speaking with friends about obscure TV shows, while someone always remembered T.H.E. Cat or Colonel Bleep, nobody seemed to have any recall of the 1967 summer replacement show called Coronet Blue – a fitting response for a show about a guy (Frank Converse) suffering from amnesia, with no memory of his name or past.

In the opening moments of the first episode, Converse's character boards what looks like a sightseeing boat for a meeting with a woman and two men who claim they “know what he’s up to.” There’s a scuffle and Converse is knocked unconscious and his personal items are taken before he’s thrown into the river and left for dead. He survives, but he emerges a blank slate, able only to dredge up the phrase, “coronet blue.” Armed with that, and little else, he goes off to what it means and who he is. (He names himself Michael Alden after the doctor treating him and hospital where he’s recovering).

I watched at least the first episode of Coronet Blue that summer, and it was probably the TV Guide Close Up below that drew me in, but didn’t stay with it and, with the show seemingly lost forever, I couldn’t go back and figure what went wrong for me. Then, out of nowhere in 2017, came a DVD collection of all 13 episodes of Coronet Blue – only ten of which aired. Here was my chance to resolve my personal case of amnesia. Fifty years later, was it worth the wait?

Coronet Blue seemed to quickly lose its way. While the first episode hinted that Michael Alden was involved in spy work, as he’s followed around by the same people who threw him off the boat and one tries to pick him off with a high-powered rifle, the concept sort of faded away with subsequent episodes. His search became a plot device that each week had him follow some slim lead, stumble into a stranger’s life, interact a bit, then move on – more Run For Your Life or The Fugitive than The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

At times Converse was like a guest on his own show. Michael Alden gains a British sidekick (Brian Bedford) and in one episode – I’m guessing Converse had a commitment to do Shakespeare in the Park that week – it’s Bedford’s character stumbling into a stranger’s life, interacting a bit, then moving on.

Converse and Bedford are joined by an impressive roster of youngish actors about to make their name, like Jon Voight, Candice Bergen, Hal Holbrook, Alan Alda, Sally Kellerman and Brenda Vaccaro. Dick Clark makes a rare appearance on CBS (he was always synonymous with ABC) sharing screen time with another perennial teenager, Murray the K. Watching them together, it’s easy to figure who had a TV career and who stayed on the radio.

The series wound down with no resolution to Michael Alden’s true identity, but the show’s creator, Larry Cohen (he also created The Rifleman, The Invaders and the 1966 Robert Goulet spy vehicle Blue Light), who had no input into Coronet Blue once filming began, later disclosed that his original concept had Alden turning out to be a Russian double agent.

The idea of a TV program revolving around a search to “find one’s self,” was probably first explored by Tod and Buz on Route 66. While their quest for identity and meaning was more philosophical, Michael Alden’s is literal. Coronet Blue was filmed during the summer of 1965 (and shelved for two years), no doubt at the same time Bob Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone” was climbing the charts. I wonder if anyone made the connection back then that Alden was a “complete unknown, with no direction home?” Or am I just retrofitting a pop culture mash-up for my own amusement?

Anyway, here is what I remembered best about Coronet Blue, its dynamite opening and groovy theme song sung by Lenny Welch, who had a big hit in 1961 with “Since I Fell For You.”