I Love a Parade, Part III: Isn't It Iron-ic?

Previously, Vroom! discovered he’d be portraying Iron Man on the Marvel Universe float in the 1987 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade…

The Iron Man costume was particularly problematic. First was the question of which armor design was to be used. Iron Man had gone through a number of iterations since his debut in 1963, including his original gray armor, which lasted less than two issues and resembled a pot-belly stove topped by a large shell casing, and the subsequent golden suit, whence the “Golden Avenger” nickname was coined. But even that second design only lasted less than two years. The majority of the following decades, Tony Stark wore a suit of red-and-gold, re-envisioned every few years.

In the comic book, it was Stark’s restlessness—continuous tinkering and upgrading—and drive for perfection that was to blame, when in reality any new writer who came onto the book usually worked a revamp of the armor into the storyline as a means of leaving their thumbprint. Plus, editorial discovered that the introduction of a new suit translated into a spike in circulation, so whenever Iron Man sorely needed a boost in ratings, as it were, they instructed the writer du jour to work said redesign into the storyline.

At the time of the 1987 Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, the armor had recently been changed again to arguably the worst design of the character’s career, since his inception, an ugly, red-and-silver suit of considerable bulk, belying the sleeker, more streamlined look one would expect from any advancement in technology. Needless to say, I was relieved to discover that the new costume would be inspired on Shellhead’s red-and-gold armor, yet not completely faithful to any one design in particular.

Next problem: How to create a suit that would adequately appear as if made of iron? I couldn’t very well traverse the parade route wearing an actual suit of armor. The faux iron duds had to look like armor, yet still be functional, which meant an acceptable allowance for mobility, i.e. I had to be able to walk normally, not like The Winter Warlock during his early stages of “putting one foot in front of the other” in Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. An all-encompassing helmet and the decreased vision that accompanied such exacerbated the situation.

Fortunately, the character’s overall design was not completely endemic of Ye Knights of Olde. The arms and legs were predominantly sleek—advanced micro-circuitry designed by the suit’s engineering genius was the explanation. These areas were easily replicated by a golden-yellow skintight bodysuit, the fabric of which displayed a metallic sheen without limiting its stretching capability. The clunky parts were the helmet, gauntlets, chest plate, shoulders, grieves, boots and lower torso. The latter component would prove to be the most problematic. Basically, Iron Man wore an iron diaper. Talk about your chaffing!

Besides the fact that forging the larger pieces from actual iron would be cost ineffective and make the resulting costume too heavy in which to move or simulate battling bad guys, imagine the difficulties in finding a Village Smithy when in need of repairs. It’s difficult enough finding a “spreading chestnut tree!” Fortunately, Bob Flanagan—the creative genius behind the construction of the new costumes—had a material called celastic at his disposal. It came rolled in large tubes, like butcher paper, only hued the color of paper grocery bags and slightly thicker. When wet, the celastic could be molded. It hardened as it dried into a lightweight, impact-resistant, waterproof shell. Its surface took paint easily, so it was perfect for simulating Iron Man’s and Dr. Doom’s armor, Magneto’s helmet, Wolverine’s and Daredevil’s head pieces, Silver Surfer’s actual head and Dr. Strange’s amulet, the powerful Eye of Agamotto, which also doubled as the clasp for the sorcerer’s cloak of levitation.

Rather than having an actor subject themselves to the onus of applying silver makeup whenever portraying the space-surfing former herald of Galactus—disregarding the inherent problems of misapplication, smudging, and makeup coming off on children—and in order to better capture the alien mien of the hero, a new head was created from the measurements of the actor’s noggin. A silver fabric was stretched over this cranial fabrication, the same material of which the bodysuit was fabricated. The Surfer’s eyes were designed similarly to Spider-Man’s, so his eyesight was just as limited as the Wall-Crawler’s. For some inane reason, it was decided that Silver Surfer should be smiling. Anyone familiar with the character knows that the Surfer is a solemn and melancholic individual, forever lamenting the loss of his humanity—which he sacrificed in order to save his world—and beloved, Shalla Bal. He never smiled . . . ever!

This would not have been Bob’s decision; he worked off model sheets and comics supplied by Marvel, and his work was reviewed and approved along the way. Methinks the same mucky-mucks involved in the decision not to include Spider-Man on the float, also decided that a smiling Surfer would be better received. At least they’re consistent in their illogic. The affect, once the suit was completed, made the character look more like Caspar, the Friendly Ghost, a sentiment that was often strengthened by the shouts of “Hi, Caspar!” by fans along the parade route.

As for Iron Man, the Golden Avenger’s red gauntlets were attached to a pair of leather work gloves, which were then painted to match. Ankle-high boots were given the same treatment, although the grieves were left unattached and loose around my calves, gravity keeping them down over the boot laces. Unless I performed a handstand while in the costume, nobody would be the wiser. The chest plate was strapped tightly under my arms, which served to keep the straps out of view. The iron epaulets were built as part of the chest unit, but loosely glued on with leather strips, so my arms would not be greatly impeded and I would be able to raise them above my head, a maneuver key to donning the helmet. An adjustable plastic band fitted within the helmet—similar to those in construction-worker hard hats—kept the helmet in place.

Then there were the iron diapers, which were secured via a leather strap and buckle on either hip. In its initial incarnation, the pubic area was made of the same hard celastic. I defy any one to stride freely with an inch of hard material running from crotch to perineum. I hadn’t walked this way since the bathing suit rashes of my youth. It was painful. The next stage of development, and the one which would be in place during the parade, had several inches of the offending scrotum-to-sphincter bridge taken out, so that none of the celastic traveled directly between my legs on the underside of my butt. The unforgiving material still ran partway under my jewels, so as to hide the metallic yellow of the spandex bodysuit underneath, but at least I could walk, though in pain from the celastic digging into my inner thighs.

My vision was even more limited than when in the Spider-Man suit; the eye slots were smaller for one thing, and because my eyes were not actually up against the slots, but rather an inch removed, that smaller opening seemed more so. One trick I quickly learned—one that I would use to a greater degree when in the Hulk or Thing costumes—was peering down through the mouth aperture in order to see where I was walking. This enabled me to walk without visibly bending over to see wee fans approaching to shake my hands; and navigate stairs, curbs or any other low-lying obstruction that could prove hazardous, especially when walking the parade route or climbing about the float.

NEXT: Super Play-Set

I Love a Parade, Part II: Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Moe

Previously, our intrepid hero shared his thoughts (ad nauseam to some, I’m sure) on the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade after discovering that he would be participating in the 1987 turkey-day event as a performer on a Marvel Universe float. The float would accompany a giant Spider-Man balloon, both specially created to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the amazing Web-Swinger. But who would Vroom! portray? And which other heroes would be joining him? Read on my faithful bloglodytes and all will be revealed...

I was under no illusions that I would be playing Spider-Man for this momentous event. I was still green, with a meager quartet of appearances under my belt (or tights, as it were), and two of those saw me playing the Green Goblin. Granted, my virginal gig as the Web-Slinger was atop a float in the Rutland, Vermont Halloween Parade. And I did portray the Wall-Crawler alongside four of the 1986 World Champion Mets in the Spider-Man 25th Anniversary poster that was handed to more than 20,000 fans during Spider-Man’s wedding at Shea Stadium the previous spring. But that was an anomaly, an unusual confluence of scheduling conflicts with Barbara’s seasoned Spidey actors that necessitated my selection to the prestigious job. It also didn’t matter who I’d be playing; I was going to be on a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade; how cool was that!

Then Barbara told me I’d be portraying Iron Man. Iron Man?! The Golden Avenger?! . . . aka Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist?! Which armor would I be wearing? Was there even an Iron Man costume? My head was swimming in a sea of questions and excitement. Iron Man was one of my favorite members of the Avengers, a beloved comic close to my heart, as it was an issue of that title—Issue #149—that spurred my initial interest in superheroes more than a decade before. Barbara went on to reveal Marvel’s plans to construct a plethora of new costumes for the event and I’d be custom-fitted for the Iron Man suit. Cool!

At the time, the Personal Appearance Department had a handful of costumes representing a meager fraction of the thousands of characters available in the Marvel Universe: Spider-Man, Captain America, The Hulk, Green Goblin, Dr. Doom, Spider-Woman, Iceman and Firestar. And of those, the former three were the only ones with any renown outside the confines of the comic-book literati.

I’ve discussed the reasoning behind the company’s commissioning costumes for Spider-Woman, Iceman and Firestar in my Heroes for Hire post of February 2009. In brief, suits were created to help promote cartoons. The latter two guest-starred in Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends from 1981 to 1983, and the female super-arachnid had her own eponymous animated series from 1979 to 1980. I can only imagine costumes were made of villains Green Goblin and Dr. Doom to balance out the heroes. Mock battles at appearances were never allowed, though, so why bother? Especially since Doom is the arch-nemesis of the Fantastic Four, none of whose members had suits designed for promotions.

But the planned Marvel Universe float was to include an all-out clash between the Do-Gooders and Evil-Doers, so Gobby and Doom were included. Spider-Woman, Iceman and Firestar, however, were not. Granted, Jessica Drew, aka Spider-Woman, no longer had her own comic book. In fact, since its cancellation in 1983, Drew had been de-powered and someone else had taken up her mantle with a completely redesigned suit. But Iceman and Firestar remained active in the Marvel Universe, the former as a featured member of the recently created X-Factor. And both were included in the aforementioned anniversary poster with the members of the Mets, which was distributed six months prior. Their exclusion from the parade is more pronounced when you review the roster of those heroes who did make the cut.

But the fire and ice of the mutant world shouldn’t have felt too bad. After all, Spider-Man wasn’t to be featured on the float either!

I know what you’re thinking: Huh? No Spider-Man—Marvel’s most popular character, known throughout the world, and more importantly, celebrating his twenty-fifth anniversary, the float’s entire raison d’être—not present? Did the fumes from the ink in the comics adversely affect Marvel’s executive branch?

Ah . . . you are forgetting the Spider-Man balloon. In their bizarre way of thinking, the Marvel poo-bahs figured they shouldn’t have a Spider-Man on the float, because the Web-Swinger was already in the parade as a balloon. Wouldn’t want to confuse the kiddies. Yet, the Web-Slinger’s arch-nemesis Green Goblin does appear on the float! One would normally have to go to a tea party in Wonderland to confront reasoning like that.

But the cast of characters on the float—or absence thereof—took an even odder turn with the inclusion of RoboCop.

RoboCop?!

Yes, RoboCop, the same character played by Peter Weller in the hit Orion Pictures movie of the summer of 1987. By that year, Marvel Productions—the company’s animation division, formed after Marvel’s 1981 acquisition of the DePatie-Freleng Enterprises animation studio, creators of the Pink Panther cartoons—had grown into a major animation studio with well-known animated TV series and movies, such as G.I. Joe, The Transformers, Jim Henson’s Muppet Babies and Dungeons & Dragons, as well as the aforementioned Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends. For 1988, the company planned an animated RoboCop series. What better way to publicize the cartoon’s imminent television debut than by featuring the character live in the Macy’s Parade alongside internationally known characters, such as Captain America and the Incredible Hulk a few months prior?

There was only one problem: the float made no reference to RoboCop’s new show, either with signage or via the scripted remarks made by Willard Scott on the parade’s telecast during his introduction. The float itself was called the Marvel Universe float, which added to the confusion. RoboCop is just on the float, waving to the thousands of intrepid souls braving the cold to see the parade live, and a few million more viewers watching from the warm and cozy confines of their homes amidst the smell of roasting turkey. That small percentage of the viewership who were comic book cognescenti were undoubtedly scratching their heads, while a much larger faction were surely thinking, I didn’t know RoboCop was part of the Marvel Universe. Meanwhile, everyone was certainly questioning Spider-Man’s whereabouts on his own anniversary float.

So what Marvel characters were included?

Accompanying Captain America, The Hulk, Green Goblin and Dr. Doom would be nine characters all new to the personal appearance program: superheroes Iron Man—yours truly—Wolverine, Daredevil, Silver Surfer, Dr. Strange, Powerman (or Luke Cage as he is more commonly known) and evil-doers Magneto, the White Queen, and the Enchantress. Oh yeah, and RoboCop.

Wolverine was the only member of the X-Men commissioned, though, strangely, two major villains from the band of mutant crime-fighters’ comic series—Magneto and lesser adversary White Queen—were included. I’m sure the White Queen’s participation, as well as the Enchantress’s, were a result of the Marvel Na-Bobs wanting some female representation on the float. But then why not Firestar? She may not have been significantly popular, but she did share a co-starring role on a successful Spider-Man cartoon, reruns of which were still in syndication in 1987.

Better yet, why not Storm of the X-Men? She was far more popular than the White Queen or the Enchantress. Plus, Storm had the added advantage of being an African American, a welcome touch of diversity to the mix. To that end, Power Man was commissioned to appear. But a female African American character would have been refreshing, certainly more so than two obscure white super-villains. That’s right: the only two female characters on the float weren’t even superheroes; they were villains. Which, come to think of it, may have been why they were chosen. Without their inclusion, the float would have been sorely lacking villains with which the heroes would be able to battle. Commissioning Enchantress and White Queen killed two birds with one stone: more evil-doers and more females.

Other notable exclusions in Marvel’s pantheon of parade heroes were Thor, Sub-Mariner and, most astoundingly, The Fantastic Four, i.e. Mr. Fantastic, Human Torch, The Thing and Invisible Woman, the characters and comic book that revolutionized the genre and begat the Marvel Universe. With the exception of The Thing, the remaining members have little visual impact when not using their powers; they’re merely humans in tight-fitting jumpsuits. You couldn’t effectively devise a live-action mechanism to display Mr. Fantastic’s pliability without its looking hokey. And you definitely couldn’t set Human Torch ablaze. It could be argued that the Invisible Woman was included; you simply couldn’t see her. Heck, she might’ve been stark naked the entire time! As for The Thing, the construction of his costume was most likely deemed too cost-ineffective, i.e. expensive, by the company bean counters.

The costumes for the new heroes were to be constructed by Bob Flanagan, whose resume included building characters for Sesame Street, for which he won an Emmy in 1986 for Outstanding Achievement for Costume Design. He would later contribute props and animal effects for Crocodile Dundee 2 and Big, as well as design Toonces: The Cat Who Drove a Car for Saturday Night Live. Bob was an amiable fellow with a shock of red hair, a matching beard and mustache, and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like the muppet, Floyd Pepper, the bassist and vocalist of Dr. Teeth’s band The Electric Mayhem. Whether he was the inspiration for the character’s design or actually constructed the muppet himself, either is entirely possible.

Though harried by the onus of building nine elaborate costumes—RoboCop’s suit was previously constructed by the movie studio—and updating the simulated metal parts of Dr. Doom’s costume, he seemed most keen when unraveling the hows of the process; how to accurately portray each character, while also allowing the actor within the ability to perform the required athletic feats. The heroes would not be merely standing and waving to the crowd; there was to be a nationally televised, extravagant choreographed battle betwixt the heroes and villains on the float when stopped before Macy’s. So not only did Bob have to make the characters look good, but also he had to make sure they moved well. Apparently, the many hands involved in the big-screen Batman suit design have yet to figure that one out.

NEXT: Can you say Iron Diaper?!!