Revisionist History

Originally published May 30, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1228

Essayists and political analysts with far more political savvy than I (which, frankly, isn’t all that much of a trick) have been commenting that President Bill Clinton has his eye on the history books. That his current policies and actions are being taken, not only with a consideration towards how they will affect his constituency (namely everyone) but also how he will be perceived by future voters and generations.

It’s evocative, to a certain degree, of some of former-president Nixon’s actions, which were allegedly taken–not out self-preservation or an eagerness to cover up the potentially criminal activities of himself or others–but rather out of obligation to future generations of presidents (to say nothing of future burglars and cover-up artists) and how he himself would be portrayed by historians.

And it’s been interesting to see how both historians and politicians have viewed, or even manipulated, the track records of past presidents. During recent presidential campaigns, both GOP and Democrats endeavored to portray themselves as heir apparents to Harry Truman, the humble haberdasher who stepped into the massive shoes of FDR and authorized the ushering in of the atomic age. There are those who would focus on the monumental achievement of the former, while others who would condemn him for all time for the latter.

When Richard Nixon passed away, there seemed to be a battle between varied schools of thought as those who remembered Nixon the (I am not a) crook went toe to toe with those who wished only to focus on his achievements other than being the first sitting president to resign. Should Nixon have been canonized? Or should he have been shunned?

Well, interestingly, the world of Captain America has weighed in on the topic, and the results are–to say the least–surprising.

Apparently, according to Cap lore, Harry Truman was a villain who would destroy the life of one of America’s premiere heroes, while Richard Nixon heroically threw himself on his figurative sword–allowing the world to think that he was covering up personal misdeeds–rather than risk the history of Captain America becoming public.

Boy, and I thought historians could be severe.

In Captain America #3, we find ourselves in 1945, with Captain America in a face-to-face with Harry Truman. We watch, impressed, as two of the great figures of World War II discuss matters of great importance.

Admittedly, we’re even more impressed as we watch furniture in the Oval office rearrange itself over the four page sequence: A large easy chair disappears between page 2 and 3; an area of window sill which had been empty is suddenly filled with photographs; a manila folder and bookends presents on page 2 and 3 disappear on page 4, and a globe turns around by itself–which is something of a blessing, I guess, in that we don’t have to look at South America practically touching Europe anymore. If that’s what Truman was using as a guide, we’re damned lucky he didn’t accidentally nuke Brisbane instead of Hiroshima.

Nor does Captain America seem to know what to do with his feet. Sometimes he’s standing there with his feet next to each other, at attention, as would be appropriate for a soldier facing his commander in chief. Then later his legs are spread wide, perhaps anticipating a gynecological exam. And for some bizarre reason, in one panel he’s standing only on his left leg, with his right leg cocked, as if a grand jete were imminent, or perhaps he’s scratching his left calf with his right foot like an uneasy four-year-old, or perhaps he’s symbolically trying to knee Truman in the crotch. And yes, in case you’re wondering, yes, his knee is pointy, although it should be noted that one-eyed Nick Fury is safely out of the room, having learned his lesson.

In any event, we witness President Truman giving Cap a severe ego stroking, telling Cap that “I’d like to think we couldn’t have won the war in Europe without you.” But then Truman informs Cap that, thirteen hours previously, an atomic bomb has been dropped on Hiroshima (interesting that it’s been half a day and that’s still not public knowledge.) Cap is outraged at the decision. Apparently deciding that it’s not the best time to let ol’ winghead know that real estate prices in Nagasaki are going to be taking a serious dip in a day or so, Truman instead tells Cap, “I want you to stand by my side when I tell the Congress and the American people on radio that you support this decision.”

Cap doesn’t bother to point out that, vis a vis the American people, it’s not going to matter whether he’s by Truman’s side or in Bumblefudge, Nebraska: No one’s gonna see him because, y’know, it’s radio. Truman could have stood there going, “Right, Cap?” and had a sock puppet saying, “Right, Mr. President,” and Aunt Louise and Uncle Mortimer will just nod and listen.

Never mind that, though. Cap respectfully declines. Turning the page, we see Cap standing with his legs wide again, hand outstretched, in a manner that suggests he’s stopping traffic so that kindergartners can cross the street and get to school. Cap informs Truman, “I cannot and will not, in good conscience, support this decision. One of the founding principles upon which this great country was based is the Freedom of Speech. You did what you thought was necessary to bring this horrible war to an end. I disagree with you. And we can stand here until tomorrow morning and I will still disagree with you. I won’t have any part of it. And if that means the people in this room are going to suffer the consequences for their actions, then it’s time you learned: If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen!” And then Cap storms out.

This leaves Truman somewhat teed off. He proclaims, “We can’t have someone as popular as Captain American raising Cain with our policies.”

And then Nick Fury, looking a lot like Cable with an eyepatch, informs the President that they can basically take Captain America, wipe his memory, and put him out of commission until they feel like bringing him back.

And Truman okays it.

That’s pretty amazing.

Let’s get this straight: We are asked to believe that “Give ’em Hell Harry” Truman stands there and lets Captain America disobey his commander in chief. Last I checked, Cap–at least as Steve Rogers–was a soldier. Last I checked, that’s called–to put it mildly–insubordination. Last I checked, they can slap you in jail for that, for a real long time.

Truman doesn’t shout back. Doesn’t order Cap to get his red, white and blue butt back in there. Doesn’t pull rank. Doesn’t say, “Okay, fine. You’re fired. Turn in your costume and shield immediately, and by the way, you’re going to military prison. See ya, Steve.”

For that matter, he doesn’t even say, “I’m the President. You’re not. Take your best shot.” It’s not as if Presidents haven’t had high-profile and popular figures engage in major and very public disagreements. They’ve survived it.

But no. Truman, the man who wasn’t afraid to make the tough decisions and never backed down–the man who had the buck stopping at his desk–crumbles beneath the mere thought that Captain America was going to voice his sentiments publicly.

“Ya didn’t give me or the blasted president of the United States any kinda choice on the matter,” Nick Fury tells him. That’s right, kids. Harry Truman was so intimidated by Cap that he rode roughshod over Cap’s rights, authorizing his being mindwiped and being made a perpetual toy of the government, rather than risk a public face off. And Fury goes on to say, “You taking a stand against the president would’ve broken this country inta pieces.”

So: According to Cap’s revised lore, Truman was gutless, duplicitous, something of a frightened sheep, and willing to destroy the life of a man who disagreed with him, rather than try to seek a legal (albeit tacky) way of shutting Steve Rogers up, or else just live with Cap’s disapproval and say to the American people, “If Captain America was willing to put American lives at risk, that is naturally his call to make. I, however, was not. So if you care about your son’s lives, listen to me, and if you don’t care about their lives, listen to Cap. Thank you and good night.”

Broken the country into pieces? Highly doubtful. Steve Rogers archly informs Fury, “I happen to have a little more faith in the American people than you do, Fury,” and in this instance, he’s right. What’s unbelievable is that Truman didn’t. It’s as if the 1990s need to see cover-ups and clayfeet in every aspect of government has been layered onto one of the truly dynamic personalities of the 20th century, diminishing him just to serve the needs of a comic book.

But a mere four issues later, we’re back in the Oval Office, and Nick Fury is still there, but this time it’s Bill Clinton who’s being brought up to speed. The office has maintained its metamorphic powers: The objects on his desk change from one page to the next; a chair next to his desk disappears; his swivel chair suddenly grows legs, and then curved legs; a chest of drawers is replaced by a potted plant and then reappears; wall paintings disappear and return;, the number and nature of flags keeps changing; and the famed seal of the President of the United States on the carpet is nowhere to be seen… except on one page where the star border is plainly there; the number and arrangement of books on a wall shelf keep changing. To say nothing of the fact that the stripes on Clinton’s necktie go from diagonal slanting up to the right, to horizontal, to diagonal slanting down to the right, all in the course of two pages.

But at least the office remains oval. Maybe we should send in Scully and Mulder to investigate.

So there’s Clinton on the splash page, standing behind his desk, with his necktie tucked into his pants And Clinton says, “I think it’s time I knew everything,” thankfully clarifying in the next balloon, “Everything about Captain America.” As opposed to, say, everything about Dutch cabinet making. Or everything about walking down a couple of steps. Or even everything about everything.

And Nick Fury warns him–in a voice sounding more like an Oxford graduate than the street-scrapper word choice we usually associate with Nick (substituting the word “you” for the more colorful “ya,” for example)–“I’m not sure you want to know all the details, sir. Your predecessors chose to allow the government its secrets. You know? I mean, the last president who knew everything resigned. Those that followed him learned from his mistake.” (Or, if you’d prefer classic Nick speak: “I’m not sure ya want all the details, sir. Yer predecessors let the government keep its secrets, y’know? I mean, the last president who knew everythin’ resigned. So the guys after him knew better.”)

An astonished Clinton, with an oddly posed hand gesture that looks as if he’s offering Fury a chair, says, “Nixon? Nixon knew?”

“You think those missing minutes of the Watergate tapes were about something as mundane as a break in?” (“Ya didn’t think those missin’ minutes from the Watergate tapes were about something as dull as a break in, did’ja?”) And Val de la Fontaine confirms, “Nixon knew about Captain America, sir. And he chose to vacate his seat of office, rather than reveal what he knew to the world.”

Pretty damned noble.

It’s not that revelations of his misdeeds, from cover-ups to secret bombings to obstruction of justice, were sending him heading straight for impeachment, putting him into a position wherein he had to resign in disgrace. No, no. Richard M. Nixon took one in the chest to avoid tarnishing the legend of Captain America.

Geez louise. Even Oliver Stone would have turned up his nose at that.

I know that those who would censor comics express the same sentiments as I am about to express, but I’m gonna say it anyway: C’mon, guys. Kids read this stuff.

Did Truman really have to be portrayed as a weak-kneed coward who ruined a man’s life rather than face off against him in a public tussle? Did Nixon’s resignation in disgrace really have to be attributed to some noble act of patriotism rather than a realization that he’d dug himself a hole he could never escape from?

Sure, these are just comics. Sure, it’s all just made-up. Sure, it’s just in fun.

But Truman the sinner? Nixon the Saint?

Just doesn’t seem right somehow.

I don’t think even Captain America would approve.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. He wishes to thank Pat O’Neill for pointing out this odd revisionist history, and eagerly awaits an upcoming Cap storyline wherein it’s revealed that Marilyn Monroe had a baby with Thomas Jefferson.)