Written by Christopher Priest with art by Denys Cowan and Tom Palmer.
In my not remotely humble opinion, Steel was the best of the Supermen, and that includes when Kal-El turned up with a mullet. I carried the Superman titles for a few months after Clark Kent turned out to have just taken a really super-intense power nap, but he was frankly more interesting dead than alive. Tom Grummett quit drawing The Adventures of Superman so that he could launch a Superboy solo series that lasted the better part of a decade. Dan Jurgens managed to knock out a three issue prestige format Doomsday mini-series every year or so in addition to his Superman duties. Supergirl got a nice mini-series, and then an ongoing by big names like Peter David and Gary Frank.
Steel got a series too, but his best artist and co-creator Jon Bogdanove only co-plotted it with fellow creator Louise Simonson. They produced some of the least adept and most embarrassing work of their careers, plus they were gone before the end of the book's second year. Chris Batista drew it for a while, and he got better as an artist with time, but Steel looked very low rent from the beginning. The title was a mess of conspiracies and plotlines dropped without resolution, as Irons hung out with his extended family in a Washington D.C. neighborhood and fought goofy villains and black ops agents. It was like Hardware for remedial students. Once all the primaries had abandoned ship, the book was written by random moonlighting assistant/editors, and drawn by whoever could hold a pencil for base rates. It was probably the worst looking mainstream book ever to be printed on that really nice glossy stock the companies used to justify a price hike in the late '90s. Somebody overdosed on "urban" cinema like Menace II Society and Juice, so that pretty near the entire Irons family had been wiped out by gang violence/drug abuse/etc.
Three freaking years into the book's run, actual African-Americans took over. Writer Christopher Priest has accused artist Denys Cowan of phoning in his entire run, which was often incongruously inked by Bronze Age Marvel bullpen favorite Tom Palmer. Despite this, Priest turned in what was easily some of the finest work of his criminally under-appreciated career, and Cowan's art did a good job of showing what a rough town Steel had to patrol in Jersey City. Priest used the excesses of previous writers to strengthen the bonds between John Henry and his niece Natasha, who herself received a personality transplant that made her one of the funniest and most caustic characters in comics. This team's Steel only lasted about a year and a half, and aside from a trial run as a team-up book with Guy Gardner: Warrior that ended up dumped into a couple of Showcase issues, the crew was unceremoniously canned after obligatory participation in the "Millennium Giants" crossover. Thankfully, the essence of the book was repurposed into the critically acclaimed Marvel Knights Black Panther, although I feel that book never quite reached the same heights. I cannot more strongly recommend tracking down Steel #34-52, which has never been collected.
Steel Flies & Orbits More Radical Profiles
- Aquaman @ The Aquaman Shrine
- The Atom @ Power of the Atom
- Doctor Fate @ Tower of Fate
- Firestorm @ Firestorm Fan
- Green Lantern @ The Indigo Tribe
- Hawkman @ Being Carter Hall
- Martian Manhunter @ The Idol-Head of Diabolu
- Renee Montoya @ Who is the Question?
- Phantom Stranger @ I Am The Phantom Stranger
- Suicide Squad @ Subject: Task Force X
- Supergirl @ Supergirl Comic Box Commentary
- Wonder Woman @ Diana Prince
- Zatanna @ Justice League Detroit
JOHN HENRY, STEEL DRIVING MAN
John Henry was a Reignin' Superman,
He's worked since nineteen & ninety-three,
"Raise 'em up bullies and let 'em drop down,
I'll beat Eradicator to the bottom or die."
John Henry said to Doomsday:
"You are nothing but a base foe,
Before that Cyborg shall beat me down,
I'll die with my hammer in my hand."
John Henry said to Team Superman:
"You must listen to my call,
Before that Cyborg shall beat me down,
I'll jar this Engine City till it fails."
John Henry's Mongul said to him:
"I believe this Coast City is caving in."
John Henry said to his Mongul: "Oh, Lord!"
"That's my hammer you hear in the wind."
John Henry he said to Mongul:
"Your plot is getting mighty slim,
When I hammer through this Engine City,
Oh Mongul will you walk in?"
John Henry's Doomsday came to him
With bony protrusions from his hand,
He laid his hand on his shoulder and said:
"This belongs to a steel driving man."
John Henry was hammering on the right side,
The Cyborg drilling on the left,
Before that Doomsday could beat him down,
He hammered his fool self to death.
They carried John Henry to the mountains,
From his shoulder his hammer would ring,
She caught on fire by a little blue blaze
I believe that Engine City's caving in.
John Henry was lying on his death bed,
He turned over on his side,
And these were the last words John Henry said
"Bring me my cool sidekick before I die."
John Henry had a sarcastic niece,
Her name was Natasha Irons,
He hugged and kissed her just before he died,
Saying, "Nat, do the very best you can."
John Henry's niece heard he was dead,
She could not rest on her bed,
She got up at midnight, donned her own remote armor,
"I am going where John Henry fell dead."
They carried John Henry to that new burying ground
His Niece robot was decked in gray,
She laid her hand on John Henry's cold face,
"Steel, I'll been true to you."
For Sunday, my Saturday pal and I invited another decades-long friend who's been saving up for a new house, so we gifted him a ticket. In return, he picked me up at 8:30, and we went for our third party and breakfast at the House of Pies (which was featured in the film Reality Bites.) I had a surprisingly excellent chilli omelet, and our waitress was great. We parked free in front of Toyota Center, and despite fears prompting our early arrival, there was no line to speak of. I wanted to check in on my commissions and initiate a few more that could be finished that day. One was done, but two hadn't been started yet, including one from an artist that arrived rather late that day. What, me worry?
As I've mentioned in the past, I was hoping for a commission when I first heard Joe Kubert was coming to town. My bubble burst once I realized that he wasn't doing sketches, that I likely couldn't afford them if he were, and that he wasn't even going to be around on Friday. I missed him on Saturday, but was surprised to find him still shaking hands and signing autographs on Sunday. The problem was, I don't have any strong emotional ties to Kubert's work. I enjoy it like everybody else, but he's not a big super-hero guy, and I'm not a big war comic guy. I never read any of the books he wrote, so what do I do, say "good job" on that Punisher story arc he did twenty years ago? I figured hey, it's neat to stand a few feet from the man for half a minute, but it's time to move on.
I spent a while on Sunday trying to track down Legos for the girlfriend. She'd found a booth that sold an older series of the mysterious MiniFig packs for $3, but I had trouble figuring out where it was. The guy with large bins of loose figures didn't have any, so I tried to scoop out the basis for a custom figure to paint up for one of my blogs. However, I was distracted by a phone call telling me that one of my commissions was ready for pick-up, and by the time I returned, kids had swarmed the area. I might fight a kid for territory when I'm going through back issues (as I did at the next booth over, scoring a 1988 Punisher: Circle of Blood tpb for $4,) but I had to surrender toy space to their intended consumer. Besides, there really weren't that many kidcentric areas of the geek-skewing con, so I wasn't going to step on this one. I finally located the cheap MiniFig packs, plus I bought some $5 earlier series at 
One of my friends was a big time art geek in school, and we'll easily spend a day at MFAH and want for more at surrounding galleries. We both dug a boldly colored impressionistic U.S.S. Enterprise at 
The soloist from Arc Attack did another set of alt-hits, and later, we watched most of a performance. The stage was roped off, and the band played around Tesla coils that would fire electricity at a specially outfitted guitarist. Later, audience members were placed in a cage that was struck by bolts in time to music. That was kind of fun when some dude dressed as Darth Vader chilled to the Imperial March, or this one guy who danced with conviction through a song. The main problem was that the band seemed to use the coils as a gimmick while playing their full length compositions, which got boring. It was only worse when they'd toss a static middle-aged housewife in the cage. Point being, it's the sort of spectacle that helps bring people into the con, but it takes up an awful lot of space and time without necessarily keeping up audience interest for an entire set.
Much of the day was spent checking in on the progress of commissions, and avoiding eye contact with those I'd passed on. I tried a bit more shopping in general, but was burnt out by the same sights and a general aversion to fingering through longboxes after too many years of doing so professionally. I regret not sampling the wares of more small press publishers or talking to more artists, but by day three everything ached and I was basically done with this thing.
I had three final commissions to wait on, and my party was hungry and bushed. Every year this happens-- there's always at least one lingering hold-up. We ended up leaving to visit Sparkle Burger, a converted house turned restaurant with terrible service but massive, juicy patties. Waiting for 20-30 minutes for our order under a steaming sun with no shade on a dilapidated bench brought home the desire to wrap things up. We'd all seen The Avengers a few weeks prior, and noshing in silence, we were aware that this was our moment of shawarma. After my grousing, I added a bit of crow to my dinner by returning to the convention center to find all three of my remaining pieces finished and ready to roll. They were very good to boot, so take that, cynicism.
Happy to finally be free, we drove a ways out to see the neighborhood my friend hopes to get a house in, then went to a friend's pad to watch Battle Royal and Punisher War Zone. Yeah, somehow I got five Punisher references into one post on a DC blog about a convention. Synchronicity is weird like that.
Artist Kiriska offers 
