Publicity
Take THREE

Paired with one of the great icons of the day,
Bob Holiday crept into one of the most prominent
magazines of the Sixties!

The article begins with a withering critique of the 1940's Batman serials, followed by this:

   Superhero activity in the sixties is by no means confined to old movies. One morning last November, hundreds of actors watered their avocado plants, finished their pork loaf and walked to Broadway, where they found a casting notice for a new musical, requesting simply, "A PERFECT MAN." "The perfect man," read scores of sallow actors, who had been doing OK in plays about dope pushers and psychotic college boys, should be 6'4" tall, weigh between 190 and 210 pounds, and have the following measurements: Neck...17", Chest...50", Waist...32", etc. After three months of barbells and blender breakfasts (milk, 3 tbsp. 90-percent protein powder, wheat germ, honey and 3 eggs), Bob Holiday, an ex-strip-joint singer, is ready to spring (literally) in the title role of It's a Bird...It's a Plane...It's SUPERMAN© [sic]. The new musical remains true to the old Superman and to his idiot alias, Clark Kent. But rather than the costumed freak of the forties, today's villain is—what else?—a dippy lay psychoanalyst. "Your actions are those of a very frustrated and unfulfilled personality," he says to Superman. "Most of us find fulfillment in simple ways. But you seem to need the adulation of millions to make you content."

Ms. Rollins continues, again insulting the comics with great gusto, and ending her article with this salvo:

   The danger is that, since someone has whispered "Junk's OK. Pass it on," a door has opened so wide it has practically become unhinged. The hitch in the "It's so bad it's good" way of thinking is that sometimes—the Batman television series is a stunning case in point—it's so bad it's bad.