Lois Lone

Relationship status: Single.

After impressive beginnings, Lois Lane had spent the middle of the twentieth century as a scheming, marriage-obsessed antagonist—or a joke. By the late 1960s, Lois started to outgrow this—but at first, only in single-issue experiments that were soon reversed.

Consider her first “declaration of independence” from Superman, Lois Lane #80 (1968):

“But Lois, your attempt to remove me from your cover has only resulted in more of me on your cover!”
“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!”

Lois did commit to a post-Metropolis life as a nurse, but in the next issue she learned via developing ESP powers(!) that Superman really did love her. So back to Metropolis she went. The idea that relationships need more than love—like, say, compatible life goals—did not seem to occur to anyone involved.

In Lois Lane #106 (1970), Lois turned Black for a day for the purpose of embedded journalism—much like real-life journalist John Howard Griffin, who had his skin temporarily darkened to pass as Black for six weeks.

Modern audiences sometimes mock this story as “Kryptonian blackface” or “white girl solves racism on her lunch break.” It has its absurd elements, true (including its title and ending). But many elements are praiseworthy, too—that page above is full of observed detail. Lois now had real social issues on her mind, concerns beyond herself and Superman. As a reporter should.

And then, in Lois Lane #107, she got turned into a snowwoman and stood immobile and crying until Superman rescued her from melting. That’s it, that’s the whole story. And its one nod to social issues was a dismissive one:

God, enjoy lying to her a little more, won’t you, Clark?

Not until 1983’s Action Comics #543 did Lois really split from Superman in a credible, lasting way. Superman said he loved her but couldn’t commit because Super-duties come first. He’d said so before, but this time she had an answer:

Lois’ gentle tone showed this wasn’t some angry impulse. It was a considered decision—one she’d more or less stick to. When she appeared in Superman comics after this, it was to do journalist things like interview foreign leaders or investigate missing children (Lois Lane v2 #1, 1986).

In the mid-1980s, DC Comics rebooted its world, rewriting many characters from the ground up. The new Lois was more pursued than pursuer, and the new Clark had a somewhat better reason for keeping his secret. It’s the same reason, essentially, that people wait until the third date to disclose million-dollar inheritances: “I want her to like me for me” (Superman v2 #1, 1987).

Though she’s sharper and sassier, Lois signals clear interest in Clark, while making it just as clear she doesn’t plan to make the chase easy for him.

In the 1960s, Lois’ fearlessness often meant doing stupid, reckless things so she could be rescued. After the 1980s—as in her earliest days—it made her a hero in her own right, though not always a squeaky-clean one (Man of Steel #4, 1986; Adventures of Superman #432, 1987).

Superman’s little game of winning Lois’ heart as Clark was a risky maneuver. It backfired several times, leading Lois and Clark to consider other prospects. Even Lex Luthor made a play for Lois’ heart, and like Clark’s, it involved concealing aspects of his true nature (Adventures of Superman #424, 1987).

Lois sniffed out the truth in time: Lex was “solving” a health problem he’d deliberately caused.

In fact, it was when her mother’s health took a turn for the worse again that Lois began to lean more on Clark. That’s what got them together—no spontaneous ESP, no magical merging of souls. Just listening, emotional support, amiable dinners together, all that boring stuff that romantic movies reduce to a quick montage.

So easy! All Clark had to do was be as good a boyfriend as he was a reporter! You’d think he could have done it decades ago.

However, he did propose marriage to her before revealing he was Superman. Some bad habits die hard, I guess.

You know that old saw about how you should learn to love yourself before you can make it work with anyone else? Lois Lane spent about 45 years chasing Superman, then spent eight chasing her own self-respect. Guess which one got better results—on both fronts? Yeah, you nailed it.

Next week: The Superwife and Supermom eras.

Tomorrow: Love and other “L” words…