|Real name:||Cyrus Pinkney|
|First Appearance:||Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #27 (February, 1992)|
|Created by:||Dennis O'Neil|
Cyrus Pinkney was the architect who originated the "Gotham Style" of architecture. Most of Old Gotham was designed by him.
Little was known about Cyrus Pinkney. After he appeared in the court of Solomon Wayne as an assault victim, Pinkney then showed Judge Wayne his portfolio of architectural sketches. The drawings, based on religious beliefs, inspired the Judge greatly. Wayne then went forth and promoted them.
Pinkney died while still a young man, on the eve of his fortieth birthday.
In Other MediaEdit
- In Batman: Arkham City, The Penguin took over The Cyrus Pinkney's Institute for Natural History Museum and used it as his own personal museum and headquarters.
- See Cyrus Pinkney (Arkhamverse)
- In Batman: Arkham Origins, there was a side mission to find all of the Cyrus Pinkney Plaques and solve the mystery that surrounded his death, which was referred to as Gotham's oldest cold case. That game elaborated a good deal on Pinkney's life, his dealings with Judge Solomon Wayne and Henry Cobblepot and architectural contributions to the city, which included Gotham Cathedral, the Solomon Wayne Courthouse, the Gotham Merchant's Bank, Gotham Rail, Jezebel Theater, the Cyrus Pinkney School of the Arts (demolished) and the Gotham Pioneers Bridge. Batman eventually visited Pinkney's Tomb and discovered that after Pinkney crossed Henry Cobblepot in a business matter, Pinkney feared for his life and learned that Cobblepot had planned to poison him. To counter that, he enlisted the help of Amadeus Arkham in order to fake his own death and resolved to take revenge. Although that completed the mission and solved another murder (Cobblepot died soon after the supposed death of Pinkney, in what appeared to be an automobile accident), Batman noted that he still hadn't learned of what ultimately became of Pinkney.
Journal Entry 1Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: January 13, 1855: The moment of my death approaches and there is naught I might to do to stop it. I dared dream of greatness, but in the process, I forgot that such ambition oft demands a heavy price. Still I pay it gladly, for knowing that Gotham has become a city whose magnificence will echo across the ages. But its origins must not be forgotten. And so I have scattered my journal across the city, placing pages where I believe they shall endure. Find them. Read them. Then share what lies within. For though the truth may not be so beautiful as the legend - it is necessary all the same.
Journal Entry 2Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: April 22, 1846: Our recent financial troubles have forced us into business with one Henry Cobblepot, a print magnate of questionable repute. The man cares little for me and my 'base station', as he put it. And so the negotiations are left to Solomon. But I fear his idealism shall lead us down a treacherous road. For Cobblepot is a sneak - and surely his sweet words mask a nefarious intent.
Journal Entry 3Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: August 11, 1851: I fear I've angered Henry Cobblepot. But he sought to build over the last remaining vestige of the original Gotham, and I could not allow it. Solomon and I went before the Mayor and bade him support us. Henry was opposed - insisting his work was necessary for Gotham's financial security. I think it's more to do with his own. Solomon Wayne's hotel put Cobblepot's out of business. I do wonder if Mr. Wayne erred in opening that place. But what's done is done.
Journal Entry 4Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: February 7, 1852: I have met the most extraordinary young man by the name of Amadeus Arkham. Though still just a student, he exhibits an intelligence unmatched by even Gotham's most learned. He is possessed with a kind heart as well - and seeks to help those who all others have abandoned. Rehabilitation instead of incarceration. It is the most progressive notion and one that few of his peers support. But I believe. And so I shall provide him with plans for the greatest asylum the world has ever known...
Journal Entry 5Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: April 3, 1853: I'm sorry Solomon... to have gone behind your back. To have bargained with the devil. But the accounts have run dry - and our work is but half begun! I had no choice but to approach Henry Cobblepot. The others would contribute no more. He consented to my request, though I fear it will come at a great cost. For now he says I owe him nothing. But how long until I do?
Journal Entry 6Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: December 22, 1854: I fear I'm not long for the world. Henry Cobblepot finally came to collect - and I refused. He wishes to open a munitions factory inside the city. This is not part of the plan and it works against everything we've accomplished. To say nothing of the danger to Gotham's citizens. I went to the mayor and begged him to introduce a bill banning the endeavor. Thankfully, he agreed. But I'm sure to be punished for my betrayal. It's only a matter of how and when...
Journal Entry 7Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: January 11, 1855: I've accepted the invitation, knowing that it means my death. Henry Cobblepot claims its merely party to celebrate my fortieth birthday. He insists that he's forgiven my past transgressions. Turned over a new leaf, as it were. But I know better. With me gone, he will use his wily charms to see the law changed and his factory built. Already there are rumors that his son, Theodore, intends to run for mayor. Victory is all but assured. I will hide this journal of mine, in the hopes that some day it might be found. To go public now - before my work is done - would put it all at risk. It must wait. But I hope in time, my words are brought to light...
Journal Entry 8Edit
Cyrus Pinkney: January 14, 1855: My god, it worked. Amadeus truly is a genius. You've come this far, dear reader - allow me to explain: I learned Cobblepot intended to poison me. And so we endeavored to replace his tainted wine with one of our own creation. As expected, I choked. I sputtered. And then I passed. But it was not poisoned I consumed. Rather something made by Amadeus. His concoction enabled me to enter a soporific state so profound that, to even the keenest of physicians, I appeared a corpse. Yet here I am - resurrected. And now I will have my revenge: Henry Cobblepot will pay for what he's done.