Editor's note: Even a magazine as large as Hogan's Alley encounters space limitations. We couldn't accommodate Dan Kelly's sidebar about the phenomenon of hat-wearing martial arts practitioners, but we want to present it to you here. Thanks to Dan for allowing us to present his fine article as nearly complete as possible.

Hatkido: Comics within the Ads

The comics influence on martial arts course ads is slight. Most show only the simple clip art of one figure in a gi shoulder-throwing another. The artistic merit of ad illustration was limited, to be kind, smacking of a freelance hack illustrator being asked to give it a "comic-booky" feel. Those strips with plots make "The Insult That Made a Man Out of 'Mac'" seem like Chekhovian drama. Humorously, in several strips (see accompanying illustrations) our martial artist is a nebbish's nebbish, garbed in a suit and tie and a rather dated-looking fedora. But beneath the snap-brim beat the heart of a Shaolin warrior.

The few martial arts ads that monkey see-monkey-did Charles Atlas' cartoons followed a familiar pattern. Two thugs inexplicably decide to pick on our hatted friend and his best girl. The thugs portrayed are indeed thuggish, rendered barely human with Cro-Mag foreheads and, if the proportions are to be be believed, are a good two feet taller than the protagonist. Motivations to attack are sketchy. None demand money or sex. They seem only interested in testing the manhood of the martial artist before his screechy lady friend. Easily fooled by the dapper and, compared to them, petite protagonist, they blindly walk were non-karate-trained angels fear to tread. "Let's push dis little guy around," says one troglodyte to another, speaking in the language of oafs and native Chicagoans. Bam! Pow! Whammo! With very uncomfortable-looking form--not to mention a command of gravity that allows him to knock over a 240-pound man with no identifiable manner of leverage--our derbied gent wipes out the bounders with rapid, blood-free strikes.

After the ruffians are dispatched, the lady comes to our hero and says not, "Oh my God, are you hurt!?!" or "What are you, some kind of psycho? Those guys didn't do anything to you yet!" but rather, "Gee honey, Kung-Fu sure is good to know." Hat locked down and entirely sweat-free, our natty hero says, "Yes, and it's easy to learn and fast!" We may assume the final unseen panel promises a scene of carnal abandon as the lady fair gives her Brooks Brothered knight his just reward.

President Kennedy, it is said, put the kibosh on the fedora and snap-brim when he appeared hatless at his inauguration. So, what's with the hats, which kept appearing in martial arts course ads years after they went out of fashion? The suggestion is probably of Clark Kent: weak, ineffectual, milksoppish outside, but within, a powerhouse. Even in the thick of battle, the snap-brim remains unmoved, showing grace under pressure.

Not until Joe Wieder's ad of 1975--sharing a single issue with Count Dante and the Ninja Society--does our cartoon protagonist appear not only hatless but possessed of a hair style usually referred to as a mullet, Tennessee Tophat, or "schlong." Hats were out. Hair was in, alas. Yet, antcedents of hatted comic warriors exist in Mr. A, the Question, the Spirit, the Clock, Rorsharch, the Sandman, the Crimson Avenger, the Phantom Stranger, Dr. Occult, Dick Tracy, and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs. Beware the hat, my friend, beware the hat. --Dan Kelly