The turn of the new year brought about an event that instantly changed the course of American history.
Cyrus Foley had spent the winter months planning the big reveal of his big creation, and he found the perfect opportunity.
January 1st, 1935 saw a near capacity crowd at Madison Square Garden. In an effort to boost morale in the city, an event had been proposed to sell nickel and dime tickets to one of the most highly anticipated professional wrestling matches of the year. Grizzly Johnson, one of the most feared and hated men in the sport, was taking on the current champion, and all expectations were on him winning handily.
Grizzly Johnson took the title quickly, which led the way for what was the be the true main event of the evening. A few palms had been greased and a few winks and nods exchanged with Cyrus and organizers of the match that led to Grizzly taking the stadium microphone and presenting a challenge to the crowd, asking for someone who thought themselves man enough to step up and face him in the ring. Jeers and laughs ripped through the crowd as men all over nudged buddies and brothers, trying to get someone to step up and take the challenge. But before anyone could build up the courage (liquid or otherwise), the back doors to the arena burst open and in walked, as Cyrus describes:
"He was the biggest damn thing in the whole building, including the columns holding it all up. We'd painted his armor red, white, and blue, so he came striding down the aisle (me right behind him, of course) looking like a great big American flag, gleaming in the lights of Madison Square Garden. You could feel the whole energy of the place change as he walked in. Every eye was focused on him. Sons trying to scoot higher on the shoulders of their fathers. Guys nudging each other trying to get a better look. Everyone dead silent trying to figure out what exactly came in the doors." (Foley)
They entered the ring; the diminutive Foley next to the massive red white and blue hulk that O'Hurley had become. Foley took the microphone from Grizzly (who of course was in on the whole thing).
From The New York Times January 2, 1935:
"The manager, Cyrus Foley, took the microphone and addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, you are privy to one of the greatest events in American history. In 1776, a group of politicians watched the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In 1863, a group of soldiers heard the Gettysburg Address. And tonight, a group of New Yorkers, the best kind of people in the world, get to be witness to the birth of a whole different kind of American. A servant to the public. In fact, a servant to America. A proponent of capitalism. Of democracy. A being who stands for all that is good and true about America. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine and soon to be a friend of yours, the world's first true superhero: American Justice!"
Flashbulbs exploded all over the arena, as Edmund, now American Justice, flashed a million dollar grin back at the crowd. Grizzly Johnson, playing his part to a T, pushed Cyrus out of the way, presenting a challenge to American Justice. The crowd roared as Grizzley laid a right hook on American Justice that glanced off of his metal armor with a resounding "Ping!". The crowd rose to their feet as American Justice threw his opponent against the ropes and sent him careening out of the ring with a clothesline.
Madison Square Garden was buzzing with excitement long after American Justice had left the arena. Men stood around their seats, chatting up people they barely knew, ecstatic over what they had just seen. Cyrus Foley's plan had worked perfectly. American Justice became an instant sensation, and the genesis of superheroes had occurred.
The next few weeks was a whirlwind of interviews, both with newspapers and on the radio (though it should be noted that American Justice never actually spoke in the interviews. Cyrus Foley did all the talking.) Though never carried as "front page" news, the publicity lasted almost until spring, finally dying down when another economic slump hit and FDR and his actions were back on the front page.
By the time April came around, American Justice had left the news entirely. Cyrus Foley decided he needed something new and exciting to get his protege back into the limelight. Something bold. Something out of left field. Actual crime fighting perhaps?
Cyrus worked with Edmund in the gym, boosting both his muscles and his confidence, though under his veneer of bravado, Cyrus was feeling extremely nervous. As strong and as tough as Edmund was, he'd never actually seen him in action. When set against real criminals on the street, would he be able to make it?
Months passed with Edmund in training, and the small well of income supporting the operation were drying up. It was time to put him out there, whether or not he was ready.
July 3rd was an extremely hot day. The lines for the soup kitchens were extremely long, men dressed for work standing disgustedly, waiting for loaves of bread. The mercury rising towards 100, bringing tensions right along with it.
Cyrus drove his car slowly through the streets, waiting for something to happen. Edmund, in his full American Justice gear, sat in the back seat, hand on the handle of the suicide door, sweat dripping down his face.
It didn't take long till they caught the break they were waiting for. The car was turning a corner when all of a sudden, a plate glass window in a building shattered, littering the sidewalk with shards of glass. Right behind the hail of glass came the cause of the destruction, the chair he used as a battering ram still in his hands. The man never noticed the suicide door opening and the gleaming metal hulk spring out onto the sidewalk. He was too busy keeping the bag of money closed to notice the giant metal hand close around the back of his shirt. And by time he realized something was wrong, he was up in the air, a haymaker of a left hook heading towards his face.
The next morning, a smile had exploded onto Cyrus Foley, his small frame covered entirely with a grin. He let his hands trace over the newspapers spread across his desk. The Post, The Gazette, and even the Times couldn't resist putting American Justice all over the front page. Cyrus' phone had been ringing all morning, people asking for American Justice to make appearances, cut ribbons, with requests for photo ops at any business that had money to guard. Almost a dozen banks had asked for American Justice to be a "guard for a day".
1935 was turning out splendidly.
Cyrus Foley had spent the winter months planning the big reveal of his big creation, and he found the perfect opportunity.
January 1st, 1935 saw a near capacity crowd at Madison Square Garden. In an effort to boost morale in the city, an event had been proposed to sell nickel and dime tickets to one of the most highly anticipated professional wrestling matches of the year. Grizzly Johnson, one of the most feared and hated men in the sport, was taking on the current champion, and all expectations were on him winning handily.
Grizzly Johnson took the title quickly, which led the way for what was the be the true main event of the evening. A few palms had been greased and a few winks and nods exchanged with Cyrus and organizers of the match that led to Grizzly taking the stadium microphone and presenting a challenge to the crowd, asking for someone who thought themselves man enough to step up and face him in the ring. Jeers and laughs ripped through the crowd as men all over nudged buddies and brothers, trying to get someone to step up and take the challenge. But before anyone could build up the courage (liquid or otherwise), the back doors to the arena burst open and in walked, as Cyrus describes:
"He was the biggest damn thing in the whole building, including the columns holding it all up. We'd painted his armor red, white, and blue, so he came striding down the aisle (me right behind him, of course) looking like a great big American flag, gleaming in the lights of Madison Square Garden. You could feel the whole energy of the place change as he walked in. Every eye was focused on him. Sons trying to scoot higher on the shoulders of their fathers. Guys nudging each other trying to get a better look. Everyone dead silent trying to figure out what exactly came in the doors." (Foley)
They entered the ring; the diminutive Foley next to the massive red white and blue hulk that O'Hurley had become. Foley took the microphone from Grizzly (who of course was in on the whole thing).
From The New York Times January 2, 1935:
"The manager, Cyrus Foley, took the microphone and addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, you are privy to one of the greatest events in American history. In 1776, a group of politicians watched the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In 1863, a group of soldiers heard the Gettysburg Address. And tonight, a group of New Yorkers, the best kind of people in the world, get to be witness to the birth of a whole different kind of American. A servant to the public. In fact, a servant to America. A proponent of capitalism. Of democracy. A being who stands for all that is good and true about America. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine and soon to be a friend of yours, the world's first true superhero: American Justice!"
Flashbulbs exploded all over the arena, as Edmund, now American Justice, flashed a million dollar grin back at the crowd. Grizzly Johnson, playing his part to a T, pushed Cyrus out of the way, presenting a challenge to American Justice. The crowd roared as Grizzley laid a right hook on American Justice that glanced off of his metal armor with a resounding "Ping!". The crowd rose to their feet as American Justice threw his opponent against the ropes and sent him careening out of the ring with a clothesline.
Madison Square Garden was buzzing with excitement long after American Justice had left the arena. Men stood around their seats, chatting up people they barely knew, ecstatic over what they had just seen. Cyrus Foley's plan had worked perfectly. American Justice became an instant sensation, and the genesis of superheroes had occurred.
The next few weeks was a whirlwind of interviews, both with newspapers and on the radio (though it should be noted that American Justice never actually spoke in the interviews. Cyrus Foley did all the talking.) Though never carried as "front page" news, the publicity lasted almost until spring, finally dying down when another economic slump hit and FDR and his actions were back on the front page.
By the time April came around, American Justice had left the news entirely. Cyrus Foley decided he needed something new and exciting to get his protege back into the limelight. Something bold. Something out of left field. Actual crime fighting perhaps?
Cyrus worked with Edmund in the gym, boosting both his muscles and his confidence, though under his veneer of bravado, Cyrus was feeling extremely nervous. As strong and as tough as Edmund was, he'd never actually seen him in action. When set against real criminals on the street, would he be able to make it?
Months passed with Edmund in training, and the small well of income supporting the operation were drying up. It was time to put him out there, whether or not he was ready.
July 3rd was an extremely hot day. The lines for the soup kitchens were extremely long, men dressed for work standing disgustedly, waiting for loaves of bread. The mercury rising towards 100, bringing tensions right along with it.
Cyrus drove his car slowly through the streets, waiting for something to happen. Edmund, in his full American Justice gear, sat in the back seat, hand on the handle of the suicide door, sweat dripping down his face.
It didn't take long till they caught the break they were waiting for. The car was turning a corner when all of a sudden, a plate glass window in a building shattered, littering the sidewalk with shards of glass. Right behind the hail of glass came the cause of the destruction, the chair he used as a battering ram still in his hands. The man never noticed the suicide door opening and the gleaming metal hulk spring out onto the sidewalk. He was too busy keeping the bag of money closed to notice the giant metal hand close around the back of his shirt. And by time he realized something was wrong, he was up in the air, a haymaker of a left hook heading towards his face.
The next morning, a smile had exploded onto Cyrus Foley, his small frame covered entirely with a grin. He let his hands trace over the newspapers spread across his desk. The Post, The Gazette, and even the Times couldn't resist putting American Justice all over the front page. Cyrus' phone had been ringing all morning, people asking for American Justice to make appearances, cut ribbons, with requests for photo ops at any business that had money to guard. Almost a dozen banks had asked for American Justice to be a "guard for a day".
1935 was turning out splendidly.
Nice to know another blogger. I couldn't get through all your writing right now, but when I have some extra time I certainly will! Hope you are well!
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