Daredevil #138 cover

Daredevil #138 hit the stands in July of 1976, our nation's bicentennial. As you'll learn below, the past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.


How differently? Shortly after DD #138 was published, an interview with Playboy Magazine nearly torpedoed Jimmy Carter’s presidential campaign. Carter admitted to having "looked upon a lot of women with lust" and continued: "I've committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something God recognizes I will do -- and I have done it -- and God forgives me for it." This statement set off a media feeding frenzy and damaged Carter's support among conservative Christians. Things were different in 1976.


In 1976 I was twelve years old and fervently immersed in my comics obsession. I was making my own comics, and in hindsight, I was mere months away from a crippling zipatone addiction. I would sometimes forego school lunch to spend my lunch money on a comic, instead. Comics had morphed from a fun hobby to a consuming fixation.


One summer day I asked my brother "Hey, where's our copy of Daredevil #138? I can't find it anywhere." To my shock, he replied that he had loaned it to a friend to read. Wondering when he was going to get around to sharing this information on his own, I implored him to get the comic back immediately, before any damage could befall it. I knew the kid he loaned it to, and I knew that if he damaged it, he wouldn't spring for a replacement copy.


As a reminder: in 1976, welching on your financial obligations didn't make you smart, it was regarded as a sign of poor moral character.


The next day my brother handed me the Daredevil #138 comic. "I got it back" he said. It was mangled beyond recognition. The comic was not torn, but was now a parallelogram of fanned and creased pages. The cover was rippled and discolored, and had a texture that looked like the back of a Nestle's Crunch Bar. Wondering when he was going to get around to sharing this information on his own, I blurted "This comic is mangled beyond recognition!" He nodded. "Yes, it is."


Visually autopsying the devastation, I said "Wait a minute... the discoloration... the rippled cover... this comic has suffered water damage! How... ?" My brother nodded in assent.


Then, the enormity of what I was witnessing struck me in waves of devastating stupefaction. Wondering anew when my brother was going to get around to sharing this information on his own, I stumbled back to support myself against the wall and stammered:


"This... comic... has been... peed on."


"Yes," replied my brother, unfazed. "My friend was reading it in bed, fell asleep, and peed on it."


As a reminder: in 1976, having something peed on was not a springboard to high elected office. Quite the contrary, it was considered repellent and objectionable to the broad tastes of society as a whole.


I think that was the only time in my life I ever threw out a comic book. I eventually found a replacement copy, and my brother's friend didn't pay for it. I've learned a lot about myself in the intervening decades. Forty five years later, there's a good chance that my modern self might say "Don't sweat the 30 cents. I got it." But, the damage was done.


Traumatic memories can be nearly impossible to shake. They can remain present and persistent in our lives, until we take steps to restore ourselves, and heal the damage. Buying this cover is a first step to laying my burden down, and learning to live again. Not to in any way diminish the experiences of others, but Daredevil #138 was my Viet Nam. Now I'm coming home.


Decades later, it took me fifteen months of saving every spare nickel, and it was my own children who had to go without school lunch so that I could afford the Daredevil #138 cover.


Thanks, Sean!