The Evil Three
Reviewed by Bruce Dettman

Back in the 1950s when I crossed the country with my parents in our two-toned Buick Special (later a Chevy Impala) on the way to visit relatives on the East Coast, it could often be a pretty grueling experience for a bored and hyperactive kid. My father and mother up in the front seat, listening to Vic Damone or Patti Page on the radio, expected me to behave and keep my chatter to a minimum (and to be fair, just how many times could they be expected to tolerate my cinematic lectures on the likes of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman or Teenagers From Outer Space). Things could get pretty darn dull, particularly since I got carsick if I read anything, even my beloved comic books. There was, however, one element that made my backseat Hell just a bit more palatable and that was my Superman figure.

This brightly colored, well-sculpted replica of the Man of Steel was made out of light but durable plastic and had originally been designed to be propelled into the sky with a tightly strung rubber band.  Early on, however, I found that Superman was getting too beat up when he crashed back to Earth on concrete sidewalks or roads (not to mention an occasion when my dog, who disliked anything sky born, got to him before I could) so I put him to other uses. The main use being to hold him up against the backseat window of the car and pretend he was flying across the ever changing terrain. In this way my plastic Superman and I passed the hours soaring above America. We flew past Mount Rushmore, the Little Big Horn, the wheat fields of Kansas, the skylines of New York and Chicago, the Badlands of New Mexico and the majestic Sierras. We flew against the shores of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, the Rocky Mountains and the plains of Texas. Quite frankly, without him I don't know what I would have done. We were quite a team.

It was also during these trips that we often stayed in some rather odd places. The highways in those days were not littered with as many attractive motels as they are today. While my mother was a sticker for nice and respectable lodgings (she would thoroughly inspect the beds before we got in them) there were occasions due to storms or intense heat or just road weariness when we had to settle for digs not exactly four star quality.

Nothing, however, was quite as bad at the Bayou Hotel outside of Beaver Falls where Jimmy Olsen and Perry White, off for a weekend of fishing, have elected to stay for the night (White doesn't like night driving and I guess doesn't trust Jimmy behind the wheel). The Editor hasn't managed to catch any fish but the cub reporter has caught both a bevy of mosquitoes and White's wrath as he whines and complains about almost everything ("You call this fun??!!"). Obviously the great outdoors are not exactly Jimmy's cup of tea and you have to wonder why the fishing-loving editor brought him along in the first place. The scene plays out very well though and there is terrific rapport between the actors. His gruffness and impatience aside, it is obvious that White harbors great fatherly affection for the cub reporter. This is John Hamilton and Jack Larson at their best with an engaging chemistry that I only wish had been put to more use with other shows centering on the twosome away from the office.

Little does the twosome realize what they're in for on this recreational getaway but thanks to Ben Freeman's dark, taut, fast-moving and quirky script they will learn soon enough.

White remembers the Bayou as a quality establishment from several years back but things have changed drastically. The original owner, George Taylor, is reported to have drowned, but has actually been the victim of a brutal murder (apparently starved to death, his skeletal remains-this grotesque moment cut from later airings of the show-still shackled to a wall in the hotel basement by nephew Macey (Rhys Williams) who continues to search for his uncle's fortune. Also in league with Macey-at least when they're not trying to kill each other with swords and fists-is Colonel Brand (Jonathan Hale). Rounding out this charming trio is Elsa (Cecil Elliot), a marginally nutty (or one might say marginally sane) crippled woman who knows the location of the money but won't divulge it.

Obviously the last thing the Colonel and Macey want around are prying guests. Seeing that Jimmy is ripe for discouragement they decide to scare him off with suggestions that the hotel is haunted. In order to achieve this, Macey disguises himself as the dead uncle and repeatedly exposes himself to the terrified youth. For the record, the individual playing the ghostly figure is neither Williams or Hale but rather the uncredited actor whose likeness is seen in a framed portrait at the beginning of the episode. Perry, of course, believes nothing of this-although he does smell a story and calls Clark on his car phone to have him check the records of George Taylor's supposed drowning death (White's number, by the way, is MX39162 and wasn't it amazing in the 1950s to actually see a car equipped with a phone!!). He doesn't believe any of Jimmy's nonsense-at least not until Jimmy and he go exploring and run into the aforementioned skeleton plus the murderous team of Taylor and Brand. There's a short scuffle here and for once the aging editor gets to mix it up a bit even though he's quickly clobbered, as is Jim. They might have ended up as dead as the George Taylor, skewered by brand's cutlass, but the old lady intervenes and won't put up with any further killing and holds off the vicious twosome ("Murderers!" she wails). Later as Perry and Jimmy try and make an exit they too are held at bay by the pistol packing octogenarian who reveals the whole story of the murder and the reason behind it and asks for their help. Perry and a less than enthusiastic Jimmy decide to check out the tale and do indeed find the money behind a (fairly obvious) boulder in the basement. But Macey comes upon them and in one of the first year's most talked about scenes-one that would also disappear for many years-takes a cue from Richard Widmark in the classic film noir Kiss of Death and pushes the wheelchair bound old lady down the basement stairs which also lays Perry and Jim unconscious. By this time, Clark has grown concerned and decides to investigate as Superman and a more no-nonsense, impatient and angry Man of Steel could seldom be found on the series. The Colonel-who as is often the case with characters during the first season, doesn't seem to know who Superman is-first takes him on a wild goose chase, then uses his sword on his impenetrable shoulders but is tossed aside like a rag doll for his efforts. Macey attempts to shoot him with a shotgun and when that gets him nowhere tries a wrestling move but the Man of Steel will have none of it ("Tell me where they are or I'll break every bone in your body" he says-and means it). This is the first season's darker, avenging angel Superman and he's great to watch in action.

Director Tommy Carr gives the actor free reign to vent his anger and (hardly) pulls any punches. This is a tight, hard-edged little mystery, offbeat and nourish in execution and content, with no leg room for niceties or polite restraint. It is also one terrific ride for the viewer. I love it.

Ultimately, Perry, Jimmy and the old Lady are found more or less in tact and Macey and the Colonel escorted away by the police. Superman offers to fly them home but White, probably wisely, decides they have had enough excitement for the day and declines the offer, much to Jimmy's disappointment.
In retrospect, the thought of a scene depicting Superman in flight holding onto White and Jimmy just might make even a wheel-chaired woman shooting down a flight of stairs seem a bit tame by comparison.

September 2006

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