It is an article of fannish faith -- meaning, of course, that the contention is a suspect one, right from the git-go -- that: "... there are no 'bad' comic book characters; only bad executions of same."

Now: whereas the rational man or woman, at this point, would doubtless make quick mince out of this bleary bromide by pointing out the existence of such wretchedly conceived comics characters as Bee-Man; Razorback; or the '60's "super-hero" version of Dracula -- characters for whom no "good" story has ever been written; because no "good" story can be written with them as the chiefest character components, without effecting massive c-h-a-n-g-e-s in their conceptualizations in the first place; thereby rendering them (obviously) "new" characters, for all intents and purposes -- the irrational one, in turn, nods cheery assent, pledging blind and unswerving allegiance to the "no 'bad' comics characters" dictum regardless of the good lord alone only knows how much hard'n'fast evidence to the contrary.

This mind-set has proven something of an ongoing vexation, within the friendly confines of the mainstream super-hero genre as a whole, to be sure...

... but: it has (demonstrably) led to outright storytelling insanity, insofar as the super-hero team concept is concerned.

Enter: Zatanna.

The mere presence of this (deservedly) lower-echelon character, within the pages of damned near any issue of the Silver Age JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA, is nearly always the comics equivalent of a gargantuan, neon-orange road sign blaring the warning: Danger. Really LOUSY Story Ahead. I'd Turn Back Now, If I Were You.

Case in point: JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA #87 ("Batman: King of the World"; February, 1971; the infamous Mike Friedrich, scripter; the steadfast Dick Dillin, penciler). [See cover reproduction, at top of page]

The story (I have, alas, no happier term to employ, in this particular) opens with a shot of a battered and unconscious Batman; and an extremely weirded-out Hawkman, kneeling beside him and shouting at some unseen foe: "Colossal monster! I'll show you we aren't to be slapped off, as a cow does a fly!" (Say whaaa --?)

Precisely one panel later: the still-unseen combatant (mercifully) blasts the still-raving Hawkman into unconsciousness, with some sort of major-duty force beam. (Apparently, they grow cows pretty damned big an' ornery, over on the planet Thanagar. God help you if you ever run into one of the flies, there.)

Cut To: the JLA Satellite HQ, where an inexplicably melancholic Superman is startled by the sudden, sorcerous arrival of (*groan*) The Top-Hatted Thaumaturge, her own silly self: Zatanna.

("Zatanna," the accompanying captions helpfully inform us. "... the girl with the enigmatic smile and dancing eyes. Zatanna... ever calm in the midst of a stormy world... Zatanna... the Bearer of Peace...")

("Zatanna... the fishnet-wearing wet dream fetish object of countless sunken-chested and sallow-eyed fanboys, and an insufferable pain in the ol' patoot, to boot." That's what I would have added. Just in the interest of total, objective historical accuracy, I mean.)

Well. Superman and the Dyslexic Diva receive "a JLA emergency signal -- from Hawkman... in Peru!" and promptly be-bop themselves (along with Green Lantern; the Atom; and the Flash) to the site from whence said signal originated...

... only to find a perfectly hale-and-hearty Batman and Hawkman just... y'know... standing around with their hands in their pockets, a-whistlin' and a-spittin' while this eighty-foot-tall robot-thingie is leveling the local countryside with crimson eye-beams, and whatnot.

"Okay, Hawkman," the Flash inquires. "Where's the emergency?"

"What 'emergency'?" the Batman responds, plainly irritated. "Everything's fine -- as you can obviously see!"

The pint-sized Atom -- ever the diplomat -- pipes up, at this point. "You got all your marbles together, Batman? [...] What about that mysterious robot -- doesn't it strike you as a wee bit strange?"

"Not at all!" the Batman retorts, heatedly. "It looks perfectly normal to me! If you ask me, it's you who are acting strange! We didn't summon you at all!"

Superman, realizing that -- even by the notoriously lax standards of a Mike Friedrich-scripted comic book -- his old Gotham City buddy is acting flat-out weirder and more highly-strung than Hunter S. Thompson at a high school D.A.R.E. meeting, gives Bat and Hawk alike the quick, cursory hairy eyeball, x-ray vision-wise.

The result...? Not imposters; not robots. These two are -- believe it or don't -- The Real Deal.

An uncharacteristically jittery (if not downright fearful) Hawkman cautions the other Leaguers: "It's just as the Batman says! Obey him... for your own good!" When the heroes don't respond to said suggestion with all due alarcity, in turn... a furious Batman snaps: "All right, since you refuse to obey... I'll use force! ROBOT -- SQUASH THESE PUNY CHARACTERS!"

There will now be a brief intermission, while the studio audience pauses to tally up all the non sequiturs to this point.

As it turns out: all of the folderol foregoing -- every last, ludicrous bit of it -- was occasioned by these big, honkin' alien super-computers from a war-ravaged, post-Atomic Holocaust "alternate world," see; which means that the JLA (accompanied, of course, by the Hocus Pocus Hausfrau) get to travel to said world and mix it up with that planet's resident super- doers: as naked and ham-fistedly awful an AVENGERS "pastiche" as anything ever witnessed by the Eye of Man or God. [See panel reproduction, below]

I mean... c'mon: Blue Jay? WANDJINA -- ?!?

The mandatory super-heroes-meeting-for-the-very-first-time slugfest shenanigans are finally halted when Ol' Fishnets gets all weepy and empathic and suchlike over one of the dopey alien "heroes" being kaBONKed on the noggin by a big rock, in the course of said battle. (You can power ring or "magic axe" your opponents all the livelong day, apparently, so far as this here gal is concerned; just don't... y'know... go using Big Rocks, or nothin'. Look... I just work here, all right...?)

The story ends (honest to Christ) with all of the Leaguers sharing (I'm not kidding) a freakin' group hug with the Pneumatic Prestidigitator, while the accompanying captions start in with that sappy: "... ever calm, in the midst of a stormy world... the bearer of peace... " ramadamadoola again.

It's all enough to jolly well make you want to set fire to a sackful of newborn kittens. I'll tell you that much for free.

Years passed... and, eventually: the fanboys finally got their hopelessly fetishistic way.

(Then-)JLA scribe Gerry Conway made Zatanna a full-fledged member of the League. [See cover reproduction, below]

The book promptly went into the bloody toilet, as a result.

Y'see: Conway became positively obsessed with -- someway; somehow -- arbitrarily shoehorning every other member of the League (cripes... even the book's baseline concept as a team title!) around the arbitrary storytelling "needs" of his Pony-Tailed Potentate...

... no matter what flavor of four-color tripe such a stratagem might occasion, as a result.

Oh, lawsy, chilluns: it was, indeed, one long, miserable stretch o' issues, there, for awhile.

(Too: the character -- by her very design -- was "anti-story," in that her sorcerous super-powers required that she chant everything backwards in order to effect her silly magickings. Whenever a reader's eye confronts a line of dialogue such as, say: "Yhw era uoy neve gnirehtob ot daer siht parc, yawyna...?", the inevitable result is that their eyes invariably cross; said reader stops, y'know, reading, in order to make the necessary translation(s); and the story, therefore, screeches to a dead halt, in turn. Not much in the way of actual "pay-off," given the ridiculous "lookit me"-ishness of the auctorial device in question, is it...?

(... and, yes: I'm afraid those really are "magic headphones" the Presto Change-o Princess is conjuring up for her erstwhile teammates, in the story referenced. Remember that, if you will, the next time you're confronted by some wild-eyed and frothing fanboy insisting that "the Justice League really, really needs a magic-user," online. Magic Headphones. Shyeah. "... and Darkseid did tremble...")

The stone absolute storytelling nadir of this wholly unnecessary character's storytelling tenure, however, was JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA's #163-165: an overblown (and unintentionally hysterical) "quest" to discover The True Story behind the "death" of Zatanna's beloved mumsy, "Sindella."

("... and six months later, Sindella died in a car crash!" Zatanna's pop, Zatarra, hammily emotes. "But her body was never recovered...!" Well, geez... what did her car crash into, anyway? A black hole...? I mean: gimme a break, here... )

(Check out Superman's face in Panel Four of said page reproduction, by the way. Even he's rolling his eyes at that one. HA!)

This story, incidentally, reaches its dramatic "apex" a few pages later on, when the little "Sabrina" wannabe opens up a trans-dimensional portal 'twixt our world and her mother's own, by means of (waaaaaaiit for it) a magical electronic synthesizer. (!!) Just in case any stray Zatanna fans out there, reading this, felt that the whole "Magic Headphones" thing was... y'know... a "cheap shot," or something.

However: never let it be said -- even here; in the bustling branch office of the world-wise, world-renowned philanthropic organization known as CheeksCorp ("Laboring Night and Day To Make Your Children's Future a Zatanna-Free One") -- that ol' Madam "Z" was the only former Leaguer whose presence within the ranks presaged more than his (or her) fair share of Really Shoddy Storytelling.

Turn your horrified, disbelieving gazes, if you will, to Page Three of "HALL OF JUSTICE... OR HALL OF SHAME?"

If you dare.

The Justice League "Hall of Shame": PAGE ONE

The Justice League "Hall of Shame": PAGE THREE
The Justice League "Hall of Shame": PAGE FOUR