by Cal Meacham

... and so Indiana Jones, having braved the multiple perils of the cave, finally stands before the golden idol, contemplating the prize as it shines in a shaft of sunlight. It’s close — very, very close — and it would be foolish to lose it by moving too quickly now. The ancient civilization that set this idol in place also set in place numerous booby traps that had already claimed the lives of competitors like Forrestal. It would not be wise to assume that they would have rusted into immobility by now. The pedestal the statue stands on is a classic trap – he can see that the top of the slab is balanced, and that removing the heavy golden idol will swing the trap. He expected this, however, and brought a bag of sand into the cave with him.

He pulled out the sack and mentally compared its weight to that of the idol. Gold is heavier than you expect, and sand lighter, but he could tell the bag was too heavy. He pulled out a handful of sand and let it fall through his fingers, then another, and another. Was it right now? Was he being too cautious? No way to tell. All he could do was trust his judgment. He took a wide stance, studied the idol for a moment, then deftly rolled the bag into place as he tipped the idol off the pedestal. He stood a moment, idol in his hand, not even breathing.

He had done it! The trap had not fallen. He breathed deeply, stood up, pushed back his ever-present hat on his head, and turned around to make his way back across the booby-trapped floor of the Temple. Then he heard the grinding as the pedestal slowly sank, the minute difference in weight against the unseen counterweight finally causing the trigger of the trap to move. He turned around in time to see the arch that had formed the alcove above the idol collapsed into rock fragments, and realized that the whole temple was about to collapse inwards on him. No time to worry about the danger from the self-firing darts in the walls. He ran across the floor, hoping for the best, and emerged just barely unscathed. He had to deal with the calumny of his traitorous companion; then he was immediately menaced by an enormous sphere of rock, rolling just upon his heels. He managed to clear the entrance of the cave into the safety of the outdoors, and thought himself safe at last. But then he heard a noise. Looking up, he saw himself surrounded by a crowd of angry Jovitos, all pointing spears at him …..

So opened Raiders of the Lost Ark, first of three movies (so far) chronicling the adventures of Indiana Jones. When the movie first opened twenty years ago there was widespread anticipation. George Lucas had come out with Star Wars in 1977 directed by him) and The Empire Strikes Back in 1980 (executive produced by him). Although in the future he would be criticized for some of his films (Labyrinth, Star Wars I – The Phantom Menace, and especially Howard the Duck), in 1981 he could do no wrong. His colleague Stephen Spielberg had scored back-to-back hits with 1975’s Jaws and 1980’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. He, too, was box-office gold. Both directors/producers knew how to craft a story, how to tell it, how to direct it, and how to sell it. They both knew how to use the latest special effects. Any movie by either of them was bound to be real entertainment, a true crowd pleaser. And this movie had them both – Lucas producing and responsible for the story, Spielberg directing. Harrison Ford, who had starred as Han Solo in both Star Wars pictures, was stepping in to play the role of archaeologist-adventurer Indiana Jones.

Nothing was known about the picture in advance. Some stories – possibly intentional misdirection – suggested that the Ark of the title was Noah’s Ark. Fans anxious for information could pick up the novelization and try to puzzle out the ending, but it was somewhat obscure. Most people had no idea what they were in for until they bought their tickets and went in.

And, as the description above makes clear, what they got as essentially a Hollywood serial – a Chapter-play movie, but with all the chapters run together into a single film, with the cliffhangers popping up with regularity. But instead of having to wait until next week to see how the hero extricated himself from the nasty situation, as moviegoers had to do from the 1920s to the 1950s, all the Raiders audience had to do was wait a minute to see the resolution. There was enough material in that single movie to fuel a complete 20-part serial, and still have material left over. It was a phenomenal success, leading to the 1984 sequel, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and a much later second sequel, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade in 1989. The title implies an end to the cycle, but Harrison Ford (who declines to do any more Star Wars work) has said that he would do another Indiana Jones picture “in a New York minute.” There has been a short-lived “Young Indiana Jones” TV series, several comic books, a host of novels, and interactive computer games.

So I ask, as I always do, Where Does This Come From? As I remarked in my earlier essay on Star Wars (“Use the Force, Luke,” in Teemings #3, 2001), part of the fun of Lucas’ films is looking for his sources of inspiration. Most of these aren’t hard to find, and many a film critic or commentator upon pop culture has written about them. The first source is the Hollywood cliffhanger serial, as noted above. Lucas was undoubtedly influenced by the serials in making the Star Wars films – the stylistic and thematic influence of Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers is immediately apparent. Lucas even took the device of the slow-motion “crawl” at the beginning of the episode to explain what was going on. In some of the serials, the letters were foreshortened and seemed to diminish off into a great distance as they scrolled up the screen, just as in Star Wars and its sequels. In fact, the division of the Star Wars films into numbered parts is the most obvious tip of the hat to the influence of the serials.

For the Indiana Jones films, Lucas mined the styles and lore of more earth-bound adventure serials, albeit ones in exotic locations. The Perils of Nyoka is often cited as one concrete example. Jungle locations, ancient hidden booby-traps… it was all there. Even Indy’s habit of always retaining his hat, even at the risk of life and limb, is due to the serials. Those adventure dramas were pumped out at rapid speed with low budgets and resources. Having the hero retain his hat meant that a continuity check was pretty simple – you didn’t have to keep track of whether the hero was supposed to have his hat on or off for a particular scene – it was always on.

Another influence, slighter but very widely recognized, was the existence of a real-life explorer whose exploits somewhat paralleled Indy’s. Roy Chapman Andrews was a paleontologist, not an archaeologist, best known for his discovery of Protoceratops skeletons and clutches of eggs in the Mongolian Desert. Until then no one knew exactly how dinosaurs reproduced – Andrews discovered the very first known dinosaur eggs. Chapman was a tireless self-promoter, writing books and articles for the general public, as well as juvenile accounts of his adventures. I myself was raised on his books. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that he spirited his finds away from Mongolia without telling the Mongolian authorities, or getting their permission.

And Andrews always seemed to be photographed wearing the same kind of fedora Indiana Jones was later to wear.

But there’s one other strong influence I can clearly see in the Indiana Jones movies, and have been aware of ever since I saw the first one. To my utter surprise, I’ve never seen anyone else take any notice of it. Surely, I thought, someone else must be aware of it. But no one else has yet written a word about it. So I shall……

Carl Barks was born on a farm near Merrill, Oregon on March 27, 1901, and began cartooning at an early age. He left home in 1918 and began a series of manual jobs. By 1928 he was selling cartoons to magazines. He sent some samples to the Disney studios in 1935. The hired him as an in-betweener, but his talent as a storyteller landed him in the story department. Here he worked on a number of shorts, notably the Donald Duck shorts Donald’s Nephews (1938) and Donald’s Cousin Gus (1939).

Surprisingly, he did not stay long. In part it was because he did not like collaboration with other writers. In part it was the air conditioning, which made him sick. On November 6, 1942, Barks left Disney Studios for good, and did what many people in Hollywood said they would do – he set up a chicken farm. He also continued drawing Disney characters, only this time for the comic books. He wrote to Western Publishing, offering to produce comic books for them. They put him onto doing Donald Duck comics, and he continued doing them until 1966, when he officially quit. In later years, however, he helped to script further comics, and he produced oil paintings based on his comic book work.

Barks’ work for Western (which published Dell comics and, later, Gold Key) was anonymous. All Disney work was collectively referred to as “by Walt Disney”, although Disney himself had nothing to do with it. For someone who had worked in the Disney studio this might have seemed a dead end — writing trivial comics that sold to children for low prices, with no name recognition. But Barks thrived in this medium. Freed from the need to work with other writers and within the studio system, Barks was able to build his own world and be his own plotter, writer, and cinematographer.

He took Donald Duck, who existed in the vaguely defined universe of Disney characters, and gave him a milieu – the town of Duckburg. He resurrected Donald’s Nephews Huey, Dewey, and Louie from the short of the same name and changed them from a pack of ill-mannered brats to a troop of Boy Scout-like Junior Woodchucks, each carrying the diminutive but encyclopedic “Junior Woodchuck Handbook”. He gave Donald the rich but miserly Uncle Scrooge, the inventor Gyro Gearloose, the lucky Gladstone Gander, and a host of other supporting players (including Donald’s girlfriend, Daisy Duck, of course). Then he plotted the most amazingly intricate adventures for them.

Barks sent them to the Klondike and the South Seas, to South America and the bottom of the sea. He sent them looking for the Fountain of Youth and Emerald Mines and the lost valley of Tralla-La. He sent them beyond the moon and into the earth. He created the criminal gang of the Beagle Boys as nemeses for Uncle Scrooge and they schemed and connived intricate plots to steal Scrooge McDuck’s millions, never with any success.

It soon became evident that here was a unique talent, and comics fans ferreted out the name of the true creator of these adventures. His stories were heavily in demand, and when Western publishing changed the name of its comics line from Dell to Gold Key they began reprinting the work of Carl Barks for a new generation of readers. His works are still in print. In 1983 an asteroid was named for him. He died August 25, 2000.

Carl Barks took what is regarded as a trivial form of art, and used it so well that adults as well as children appreciated his work and sought it out. He is to comic books what Chuck Jones is to the animated cartoon. It’s interesting that both men flourished in the same period – the middle 1940s to the mid-1960s. Just as some people revere Jones’ cartoon “Duck Amuck,” own it on videotape, and can quote from it, so do fans of Barks’ comics fondly recall, for instance, “Back to the Klondike,” know that it was first published in Four Color #495 (AKA Uncle Scrooge #3) Spring 1954, and has a flashback featuring Glittering Goldie, the Star of the North. True aficionados will know that there is a longer version of the story, with a lengthier flashback. They may even own an original oil painting or a lithograph of the scene by Barks himself.

This may give the impression that Carl Barks fans are obsessed individuals, but the attention the strips draw is deserved. Obtain a copy of one of these stories and see for yourself. The Carl Barks Library is published by Gladstone Press (named after Barks’ lucky gander) at Box 2079, Prescott AZ 86302 (520) 776-1300. ( http://brucehamilton.com/gladstone/.) Sadly, they no longer reprint the Barks stories (Although they still do publish Uncle Scrooge comics, producing Barksian stories), but you still ought to be able to obtain the reprints through used comic shops or collectors.

The June 1959 issue of Uncle Scrooge , issue number 26, had a blue cover that depicted Scrooge fishing through sewer grate with a magnet (looking for Canadian nickels?). The lead story was a twenty-page epic scripted and drawn by Carl Barks, entitled The Prize of Pizarro. In a (very) rare burst of generosity, Scrooge McDuck has bought an authentic Spanish Galleon and donated it to the city of Duckburg as a playground for children. Before he gives it to the city, however, he scrutinizes it carefully, looking for gold dust trapped in corners. And he finds … a letter. It describes the route to the Hidden Gold Mines of the Incan Emperors.

Scrooge turns the Galleon over to Duckburg, but keep the letter. He takes Donald, Huey, Dewey, and Louie with him to the Andes, and they begin their trek to the Gold Mines. Following the letter’s directions, they find a hidden tunnel and they begin climbing upwards on the trail, finding booby traps along the way.

Scrooge: (As Donald pulls the boys out of a booby trap) The letter says parts of the trail were undercut by the Incas to keep enemies from snooping along it!

Donald: (Sarcastic) I like the way you read that letter – a line at a time!

Donald and the boys want to turn back, but Scrooge goads them into going on. They come to a sheer rock wall, break out the climbing gear, and start going up. Resting on a ledge near the top, they discover the discarded armor and weapons of the Conquistadors. They decide to wear the armor and buckle on the swords, in the spirit of the adventure.

A short distance above them, a pair of guards thinks they hear voices along the Old Invasion Trail. The Incan mining colony is still there, waiting after 400 years for word from the Emperor. They have maintained the booby traps and have added new ones. Th younger ones among them have been agitating to close down the operation – the invaders were a myth! But this new threat from below seems to prove them wrong. They are anxious to see how their defenses will work against the Conquistadors, who were said to shoot invisible arrows that made great noise. As a last resort, they agree they will fight them hand-to-hand if need be. But or now, they hide to see the effect their booby traps have.

The ducks, virtually encased in armor, clamber over the top into a valley filled with fields of potatoes and herd of vicuñas.

The path forces them into a tunnel. The ducks are unaware that this is the Tunnel of Spears. It is followed by the Sickle of the Short Haircut and the Bridge of the Roaring Skull Cracker, all of them new traps. They go into the Tunnel and merge unscathed – the ducks are shorter than the Conquistadors were, so al the spears went over their heads. Likewise the Sickle. The giant cannonball of the Skull Cracker also zooms harmlessly above them. “Give us MEN to fit our booby traps!” wail the Incans, watching helplessly as the booby traps miss their marks.

Scrooge finds the gold mine – a huge vertical fissure that now is mostly filled with water. As he measures he depth of the water, the Incas finally attack, charging upon the unsuspecting ducks. Donald discharges a wheelock to celebrate the finding of the mines, and the noise and flash of the shot awaken memories of the old stories of invaders with invisible arrows. Th Incans flee before the ducks even know they are there.

Uncle Scrooge decides to see if the Incans had a drain plug at the bottom of the mineshaft. The ducks use handholds and ladders they find on the cliff to descend. At the bottom they find a tunnel leading in. The Incans see them go in, and decide to use their last booby trap. At the end of the tunnel the ducks find a single metal hatch with an attached chain, apparently sealing the bottom of the mineshaft. Water is leaking around the edges. “That thing looks mighty feeble to be holding back 4,000 feet of water!” opines a nervous Donald. Scrooge doesn’t even hear “It should blow with no more than a handful of dynamite!” he says, envisioning easy access to the gold veins within. Suddenly the hatch begins to rise, as the Incans struggle with the rusty windlass above. “Great Flaming Cat Whiskers!” says Scrooge, “We must’ve triggered anther booby trap!” The ducks run back down the tunnel, pursued by the water from the mine. They make it to the mouth, just in time, and cut over to the side to avoid the deluge of water that shoots out in a solid stream, across the valley. All of them make it, that is, except Donald, who is swept into a condor’s nest.

The water has washed all the loose gold out of the shaft, and it now sits as a plague of yellow mud everywhere. Downstream, it has filled the yards and gardens and polluted the waterworks. The Incans start panning their final wages, realized they’re out of a job. The ducks, still totally unaware of the living Incans, start down to civilization, see the havoc they’re wrought, and keep their mouths shut. The local price of gold is down to ten centavos a ton. “A Whole mountain full of gold,” muses Scrooge , “And I might get sued for finding it! When will I ever learn to leave other people’s mail alone?”

The brief description here doesn’t do the story justice – all the style, interplay, and characterization that make it a joy to read are missing – but at least it gives you the bones of the story. You can see some slight resemblance to Indiana Jones in the treasure-hunting aspect, but why should I think there’s any more to it than that? The illustrations are the giveaways. I saw the resemblance with the very first Indiana Jones movie, and it has continued with every movie since. Every Indiana Jones movie has lifted at least one of its outré images from this story. That corridor leading up to the idol in the original Raiders of the Lost Ark, lined with holes through which poisoned darts flew when triggered by the floor has its counterpart in the Tunnel of Spears in The Prize of Pizarro. The giant stone ball that chased Indy out of the cave is the same as the giant stone ball at the Bridge of the Roaring Skull Cracker. In Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom the inhabitants of a secret mine labor to send a vas amount of water rushing through a mine to destroy Indiana Jones and his companions, just as in The Prize of Pizarro. In both cases the heroes rush just ahead of the water, and as they clear the mouth of the tunnel, they duck to the side and safety as the water shoots out. The similarity of the images is striking. In Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Indy has to prove his faith by stepping out over an apparent abyss. In Prize, Uncle Scrooge notes on the trail up that the “Next danger spot on the trail is the Chasm of the Leap for Life!” The newly defiant Donald Duck snarls “We’ll step across it!” More impressive is the part near the end of the movie where Indy must get the Grail to save his father’s life. The first test there is to get past the un-named obstacle that is beheading the other contenders. “Only the Penitent Man will Pass!” repeat both Doctor Jones, trying to fathom the meaning of the clue in time to save Indy.  “The Penitent Man is Humble!” realizes Indiana. “Kneel!” He does so in time to avoid the razor-edged giant blade that decapitated the others. Just like the Sickle of the Short Haircut missed beheading the Ducks because they were too short.

One last similarity between this last Indiana Jones movie and the work of Carl Barks seems to come from another story – the apparently several hundred year old knight in full armor in a hot climate who looks for a successor to his vigil has a perfect counterpart in “The Ghost of the Grotto”. Uncle Scrooge is not in this story, which features Donald and the boys as kelp harvesters in the Caribbean who encounter an apparently several hundred year old knight of Conquistador vintage who kidnaps a boy every hundred years. He makes off with Dewey, and the hunt is on. A wonderfully off-the-wall story that involves a sunken Spanish galleon (Barks must have loved them) and a giant octopus.

Is it possible this is just coincidence? I don’t think so. George Lucas wrote the introduction to one of the volumes of the Carl Barks Library. He not only knew the contents, he was a fan. Interestingly, there is anther similarity – both Lucas and Barks were criticized for their setting stories in foreign lands and cultures. To some, it looked too much like condescension and denigration. Although Lucas and Spielberg go to great lengths to show hat the Bad Guys in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom were followers of the Thuggee cult worshippers of Kali, a lot of people seemed to think that the movie was putting down Hindus, or modern-day worshippers of Ma Kali (I know such Kali Worshippers exist, even in the U.S. Ever since I researched Kali worship for my book “Medusa” I get letters from them several times a year asking for donations.) Similarly, some have criticized Barks’ use of made-up foreign countries like Framistan, or characters like the Rajah of Eyesore, on the grounds that they are thinly disguised version of actual countries and people and Barks is training us not to take them seriously. To such critics I say that it’s hard to have a travel adventure that doesn’t go someplace. Of course the made-up place is going to resemble an actual location to some degree. Barks and Lucas were careful never to poke fun at actual places or people, but the critics didn’t see this, or refused to. What’s important here is that the similarity of the Indiana Jones movies and the Uncle Scrooge movies was so close that they even attracted the same brand of criticism.

The ultimate similarity is that in the last movie Indiana finally drags in his irascible, scrappy, resourceful, opinionated Scottish father to share in the adventure, matching the irascible, scrappy, resourceful, opinionated Scottish Uncle Scrooge. It’s just hard to think of Harrison Ford as Donald Duck.

In 1988 Disney introduced a new television animate series, Duck Tales. It ran for two years and 100 episodes were produced. They featured very Carl Barks-like adventues of Donald, the Boys, and Uncle Scrooge. Except for an appearance in the Disney short “Uncle Scrooge and Money” and the starring role in “Mickey’s Christmas Carol” as Ebenezer Scrooge, Scrooge McDuck had not appeared in Disney animation before. Now, for the first time, this Barks-created character was doing Barkslike things. I don’t believe any of the episodes were based on Barks comic book stories, but they had the same feel and the same setting. One of the greatest ironies was the feature release of a Duck Tales movie in 1990 – Duck Tales: The Movie: The Treasure of the Lost Lamp. I this, Uncle Scrooge, Donald, and the Boys look and act very Indiana Jones-like as they search for a lost archaeological treasure. A case of coming full circle if ever there was one.