When I went to DC in 1976, I was handed two scripts of something called the Black Bomber. These were scripts produced by Gerry Conway and Bob Kanigher — terrific writers, good guys. But the fact was these scripts were the most offensive scripts I'd ever read in my life.
The Black Bomber was a white racist who took part in camouflage experiments during the Vietnam war to help him blend into the jungle better.
I hate where this is going.
Save your hate, there's more to come.
So nothing happened when he was Vietnam. But when he was discharged home at various times, he would turn into a black superhero. The white racist didn't know that he turned into a black superhero. Likewise, the black superhero didn't know he was really a white racist.
[In] the worst of these two scripts, his white racist identity saves people who [he] can't see clearly and then is horrified when he learns he risked his life to save a black person, one being a child in a baby carriage. And when he finds out it's a black kid, he literally says, "You mean I risked my life for a jungle bunny?"
Wow.
The cherry on this s**t sundae was that his uniform was essentially a basketball uniform. So I told DC "no," I could not punch up these scripts and take over the book with the third issue because they were the most offensive things possible and if you put them out, people would come to their offices with pitchforks and torches.
They asked, "how could you possibly know this?" and I said, "Because I'll be leading them."
How long did your initial conversations about Black Bomber go on for with DC?
We argued about this for two weeks until I finally boiled it down to one question: "You really want DC's first headline black superhero to be a white racist?" And at that point, they agreed it was a bad idea. They killed the project and gave me basically two, three weeks to create a new black hero.