The shadow of the bat

The summer of 1989 belonged to Batman. For a few unforgettable months, the Dark Knight escaped the comic shop, took over popular culture and cemented a journey I'm still enjoying more than three decades later.

For months, bat symbol was everywhere—on movie posters, T-shirts, lunchboxes and the Batman soundtrack. It became the unmistakable emblem of the summer of 1989.

Before Gotham

Batman had already earned a permanent place in my life by the summer of 1989.

Like most kids growing up in the late 1970s and early '80s, I started with Superman. Christopher Reeve was my hero. Spider-Man swung across The Electric Company, Saturday mornings belonged to the Super Friends, and reruns of the 1966 Batman television series regularly found their way onto our television in southeast Louisiana. Those elementary school years were measured by action figures, trips to Toys "R" Us and afternoons spent inventing adventures on the living room floor.

Middle school brought different interests. I traded sneakers for Doc Martens, discovered music that felt a little more grown up and spent less time wandering toy aisles. The local comic shop became part of my regular routine, and Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns and The Killing Joke introduced me to a Batman unlike the one I'd watched after school. He was darker, more complex and living in a Gotham City that felt dangerous instead of campy. Before long, Batman and Detective Comics were waiting for me every month, and somewhere along the way Batman quietly replaced Superman as my favorite hero.

Eventually, the rest of the world began catching up to the Batman I'd been discovering in the comics. Black Batman T-shirts suddenly seemed to be everywhere, and they fit right in with the style my friends and I were already wearing. After more than two decades, Batman was returning to the national consciousness in a way he hadn't since the 1960s television series. The summer of 1989 arrived at exactly the right moment, sitting between middle school and high school, childhood and whatever came next. I was fourteen years old and only cared about one thing.

I had to see this movie.

The official Batman ‘89 comic adaptation of Batman captured Tim Burton's blockbuster on the printed page, giving fans another way to relive the film after leaving the theater.

A summer worth waiting for

Growing up in St. Bernard Parish, seeing a first-run blockbuster meant leaving town. Chalmette had a dollar theater, but if you wanted to experience a movie like Batman while everyone else was talking about it, you piled into the family car and made the forty-five-minute drive to the Esplanade Mall in Kenner. The weekend after Batman opened, my brother Mike, our friend Cheryl and I did exactly that. We'd talked about the movie all week, so much that my little sister assumed she was coming too. The tears started in the parking lot when she realized Batman wasn't on her schedule that afternoon. My parents quickly adjusted and took her to Honey, I Shrunk the Kids while the rest of us headed toward Gotham City.

Before we reached the auditorium, I spotted the official movie adaptation sitting on the concession counter. I grabbed a copy the same way I grabbed my popcorn. They belonged together. One was for the movie I was about to experience, the other was for bringing a piece of Gotham home with me. More than thirty-five years later, it's still one of the most valuable books in my collection.

The house lights faded, conversations disappeared and Danny Elfman's score slowly filled the theater as the screen carried us through darkness before revealing the bat symbol. Gotham City rose out of the shadows, all towering buildings, steam and narrow alleys, before the camera settled on two frightened crooks counting the night's take across a rooftop. One nervously talked about the rumors of a giant bat stalking Gotham's criminals until a dark figure silently appeared behind them. Batman grabbed one of the thieves and calmly told him, "I'm not going to kill you. I want you to do me a favor. I want you to tell all your friends about me." The terrified thug exclaimed, "What are you?" The dark figure leaned in just enough to answer with two words that sent the theater into cheers.

"I'm Batman."

The movie delivered on every bit of anticipation that had been building for months. Jack Nicholson's Joker was unforgettable, and Gotham City looked unlike anything I'd ever seen on screen. Then there was the Batmobile. Long, impossibly sleek and powered by a roaring turbine that spit flames from the rear exhaust, it looked less like a car and more like a jet fighter that happened to drive on city streets. Every time it appeared on screen, the audience seemed to lean forward a little farther in their seats. The Axis Chemicals explosion, the museum sequence, the final rooftop confrontation and Elfman's soaring score all combined into an experience that somehow exceeded months of hype. By the time the credits rolled, I knew I'd experienced something special. I hadn't walked out of a theater that excited since seeing Star Wars as a very young boy, and during the forty-five-minute drive home all any of us wanted to talk about was Batman.

The success of Batman ‘89 wasn't limited to American store shelves. Imported collectibles like this Japanese Kabaya model kit reflect the film's worldwide cultural impact.

Batman was everywhere

The movie ended, but the summer was just getting started.

My next stop was the toy aisle. The Toy Biz Batman figure was the first action figure I'd bought in years, and the Joker wasn't far behind. ERTL die-cast vehicles soon joined them, including a Batmobile that briefly doubled as a special-effects experiment after I wedged part of a birthday candle into the rear exhaust and lit it before sending it racing across our kitchen floor. Somehow both the Batmobile and my parents' kitchen survived.

Batman followed me home in other ways, too. Elfman's score immediately became the soundtrack to that summer, while Prince's Batdance seemed to be playing everywhere. I still laugh remembering my mom rushing into my bedroom after hearing Prince yell, "Get the funk out!" She was convinced she'd heard something much worse. One rewind, we were both laughing.

Even a run to Taco Bell meant another Batman collectible. There were cups, magazines, trading cards and merchandise everywhere you looked. Every trip to Kmart seemed to uncover something new, and every few dollars of allowance disappeared just as quickly.

The Topps trading cards became an obsession. Every wax pack carried the hope that this would finally be the one with the card I was missing. I bought far more packs than I should have, chewed more stale gum than I care to admit and still never completed the set until years later, when a fraternity brother helped me track down the last few singles.

Then there were the things you couldn't simply buy at the store.

My friend Steve was already making trips to comic conventions before I ever attended one. Somewhere along the way, he came home with one of the yellow, square promotional Batman buttons that had been handed out before the movie's release. It featured an early illustration of Batman alongside a version of the logo that never appeared on the finished merchandise. I thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen.

ERTL expanded the world of Batman ‘89 beyond the big screen with a line of die-cast vehicles, including the Batmobile and the Joker's van.

Where does he get those wonderful toys?

At the height of the Batman craze, the answer to that question was scattered across my bedroom floor and shelves. Cereal boxes, Frisbees, window shades, action figures, die-cast vehicles, trading cards, cassette tapes and other movie tie-ins competed for space wherever I could find them. It was exactly what you'd expect from a kid caught up in the biggest movie event of the year.

One purchase from that summer shaped the next chapter of my collecting. Like thousands of other fans, I picked up the Official Batman Movie Souvenir Magazine for its behind-the-scenes stories and production photos. Before long, the feature on Batman collector Joe Desris had become my favorite part of the entire magazine. I spent more time studying those photographs than anything else between the covers. Aurora model kits, Remco toys, Mego action figures, Ideal playsets, Soaky bubble bath bottles, collector banks, lunchboxes, Batmobiles in every size... nearly every vintage Batman collectible I would eventually chase made its first appearance on those pages. Little did I know that a three-dollar souvenir magazine would chart the next thirty-five years of my Batman collecting—and drain my wallet in the process.

Life kept moving. High school gave way to college. New Batman movies arrived. Batman: The Animated Series went hand in hand redefining the Dark Knight for another generation, and my own interests expanded with it. The movie merchandise gradually found its way into boxes as comic books, vintage toys and other chapters of Batman history claimed more of my attention. By the end of the decade, an entire bookcase was devoted to Batman, and the summer of 1989 had become just a part of a much larger story.

Then came Hurricane Katrina.

By the time the storm reached the Gulf of Mexico in 2005, my childhood Batman collection was about the last thing on my mind. Like everyone else along the Gulf Coast, I was focused on protecting my family and getting out safely. Most of my Batman collection disappeared in the flood. By sheer luck, the movie adaptation I carried into the theater that afternoon survived because it happened to be filed inside one of the long boxes of Batman comics I took with me when I evacuated. Everything else—from the toys to the tapes—became part of the memories.

Nearly four decades later, a carded Toy Biz figure stands alongside its loose European counterpart, a reminder of one of the defining toy lines from the film's merchandising campaign.

The hunt continues

Years passed before I returned to the 1989 film. By then, I had grown up. Decades of collecting had given me the freedom to approach the movie in a way I never could that summer. Back then, I was caught up in Batmania, bringing home whatever I could find and enjoying every minute of it. This time, I had the freedom to be more selective. I wasn't trying to replace everything Hurricane Katrina had taken. I was choosing the pieces that best captured what that unforgettable summer meant to me.

Some choices were obvious. The Topps trading cards came home again, this time as complete first- and second-series sets. Nothing will ever replace the fun of stopping at a drugstore or gas station, tearing open another wax pack and hoping the next card would finally complete the set. But there was a different kind of satisfaction in opening a package and finding those complete sets waiting inside. The Toy Biz Batman returned as well, this time as a beautiful mint-on-card example that looks every bit as good as I remember it hanging on the peg in 1989. The Official Batman Movie Souvenir Magazine reclaimed its place on the shelf, and I still find myself studying Joe Desris' collection just as closely as I did all those years ago.

The surprises came next.

The Japanese Billiken Shokai wind-up Batman and Joker toys reminded me that in 1989, Batman was far bigger than the world I experienced that summer. They weren't replacing a childhood memory. They were adding a new chapter to it. Thirty-five years later, I'm still discovering pieces of Batmania that I never knew were out there.

Looking forward, there are still a handful of items on my want list. A pristine carded ERTL Batwing, a first-print hardcover of Craig Shaw Gardner's novelization and an original vinyl pressing of Danny Elfman's score remain near the top. I'd also like to add a complete set of five Canadian Ultramar promotional drinking glasses to my collection. They feel like they would be more at home alongside my vintage Star Wars and Indiana Jones glasses than the Taco Bell cups ever did. And if I happen to come across a pair of Topps Batman and Joker candy dispensers with their original candy and paper seals still intact, they'll be coming home with me too.

Manufactured by Billiken Shokai in Japan, these lithographed tin wind-up Batman and Joker toys offered a distinctly different interpretation of Tim Burton's Dark Knight than anything released in the United States.

Long after the credits

Today, Batman ‘89 is represented by only a handful of carefully chosen pieces within my Batman collection. Each one serves as a reminder of a summer that changed the way I looked at the Dark Knight forever.

Every time Danny Elfman's score begins to fill the room, I'm back at the Esplanade Mall. The house lights have already faded. The theater has gone quiet. I can smell the popcorn, feel the movie adaptation tucked under my arm and watch the bat symbol appear on the screen for the very first time.

The signal lit the sky.

I never stopped answering it.