The Times, They Are a-Changin'

In 1939, after engaging in such gentlemen sports, such as cricket, fox hunting, or Turkish oil wrestling; it wasn't uncommon to unwind with your socialite playboy friends, light up, and discuss pertinent police information.
"Hey, Bruce, wanna see a dead body?"
"Boy, would I! Just let me grab my pipe and utlitity ― er, tobacco pouch."


By 1987, an older ― wiser ― Commissioner Gordon decides to (and rightfully so) kick the nasty habit of cigarette smoking.
Nicorette? Cold Turkey? Methadone?! Heck, no. Mints! Mints is the answer!
Batman, a human being, who performs at the peak of physical perfection, scoffs, saying, "Man up! All you need to get that jittery, nicotine monkey off your back is a pipe. My billionaire playboy friend, Bruce Wayne, has been smoking one for 48 years! And, what a stud he is!"


1991 wasn't such a good year for Jimmy. If he'd only stuck to the pipe (like the World's Greatest Detective suggested) he wouldn't be eating pavement, as his heart beats the drum solo from Wipe Out ― in double time.
Of course, by the end of 1991, DC comics helps Commissioner James Gordon kick the coffin sticks all together ― and so ― after a brief stint in the ICU, and some soul searching, he would go on to make a complete recovery (while shoveling down bacon like a masochistic Porky Pig).


In 2014, the jittery monkey got the best of Gordon, and after lighting up again after 23 years, his lungs could take no more! Whether it may have been the fact that he was 75 plus years old at this point; or BirdPlaneMan's X-ray vision pumped him full of 10 lifetimes worth of radiation in 5 seconds; there would be no bouncing back for the dear Commissioner (at least in rendition).
[queue Taps]
And say what you will about the Boy Scout in blue tights and red booties, he doesn't #$%! around when it comes to bedside manner.


Ah, flashback to the good ol' 60s (circa 1997): when kids could run around in tights, adults could shoot other adults in the face, and nothin' took the edge off like a briar pipe and a handlebar mustache.

Thank you, sir!
I was sitting here, remembering an American Heart Association PSA that ran in multiple DC publications around 1991. It was an ink drawing of Commissioner Gordon laid up in a hospital bed, tubes coming out of everywhere; tobacco was the worst villain of all. This PSA was accompanied by a story-line in which Gordon had a heart attack, because of his years of tobacco abuse.
To an 11 year old comic book reader, this was huge! Unbelievable! Unimaginable! Impossible! ... Then Doomsday killed off Superman the following year, and we young fanboys had to be wary of demon tobacco and subterranean super-aliens. Don't even get me started on Knightfall! There isn't enough thearpy in the world to make up for those three years of prepubescent psychological torment.

Thanks for sharing! There are some real gems in there.
I can't believe that I hadn't heard about the Appletons until now!
I've also learned that I need to grow a handlbar mustache as manly as Duane's.