Rick Marschall
My One Evening As the NCS Attorney
CARTOONIST SKETCHES - NCS poster for RM 1961 |
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We
all know that comedians like Conan are always kidding, and historians like me
are always desperate for attention, hence this shameless self-promotion. I
returned from New York with a deadly head cold, but actually I think it was a
swelled head. Hashtag-Confession-Is-Good-For-The-Soul.
Back
to the past. October 25 will always be preeminent in my mind because it was the
date, in 1961, of the first National Cartoonists Society meeting I attended. I
was 12, and Al Smith invited me. He was the artist of Mutt and Jeff,
lived in Demarest NJ, the next town from ours, and briefly attended our
Lutheran church. I always suspected that he was chased away by the pastor’s
requests for drawings for church publications and posters, but anyways he
introduced the young cartooning nut, me, to the legendary cartoonist in the
fullness of time.
I
subsequently visited Al enough times, seeking drawing tips and peppering him
with questions about comics history, that he was convinced I was some sort of
true-blue aspirant, or little freak, or something in-between, safe enough to be
exposed to the pros. Or vice-versa.
He
picked me up early in the afternoon because, as NCS Treasurer, his attendance
was required at the Board meeting before drinks and dinner. The monthly meeting
was as big as any other chapters’ around the country, because New York, New
Jersey, Connecticut, and Long Island was still the nexus of American
cartooning. The meetings were held in the Lambs Club, ancient and old-world
elegant clubhouse of the legendary actors’ association. Wood-paneled rooms,
overstuffed leather chairs, and cigar smoke presented me a picture of Heaven;
several old actors (I believe I spotted Brian Aherne) snoozed in easy chairs
and corner sofas.
Al Hirschfeld, Algonquin Round Table |
The Lambs dignified clubhouse is on East 44th Street – and in a pleasant coincidence, the Harvard Club is on the same block, and that where the Theodore Roosevelt Association met, and I delivered my speech almost exactly 57 (gulp) years later. The Algonquin Hotel and Restaurant – home to many celebrities in ages past, and bon mots first uttered at the Round Table – and I lunched there last week too, a matter of obeisance. Holy ground, West 44th Street.
Al Smith took me up to a meeting room in an otherwise dark upper
floor, and one by one Board members filtered in. Emerging from the darkness was
a white head with absurdly large ears and a large cigar to match. I knew it was
Rube Goldberg and I felt in the presence of royalty. He was kind enough to
engage me in conversation, and spontaneously invited me to visit his studio off
Central Park, when and if (as if not!) I could make it back to Manhattan.
Before the evening was over, he asked for my address, if (as if not!) I would
like an original drawing. Before the week was out I received an inscribed Inventions
and Mike and Ike from the ‘teens.
One of the agenda items for the Board meeting was to meet, or vet,
a new legal representative for the NCS. He never showed, so for the remainder
of the Board meeting, and the entire dinner and program downstairs, I
repeatedly was introduced as the New Lawyer. I sat on the dais for the dinner, between
Al Smith and Dik Browne. I watched Dik, later a great friend who attended my
wedding, for clues on dinner etiquette… but eventually noticed he didn’t touch
his food. I gobbled my salad, and don’t remember whether he actually ate or
not.
Bill Holman |
Meetings in those days – I wound up attending a fair number of
meetings till I went off to college, the guest of Al, again, and Harry
Hershfield, Vern Greene, and others – featured “Shop Talks,” which were panel
discussions rather sophisticated. Business and tax topics, cartoon history,
interviews, were fodder of the excellent sessions. I think Jerry Robinson
conducted them; and I think Stan Lynde was the guest that evening.
Many cartoonists were stewed to the gills, a rite of passage in
those days. I somehow knew that would be the case (hence my prepared Bob Dunn
pun). I was unable to have a rational conversation with Walt Kelly, for
instance, despite hopes to engage him about T S Sullivant (what a ridiculous
scene, actually); on the other hand I was an impromptu audience for one of the
funniest men I ever met, Al Kilgore.
I met Mell Lazarus and Mort Walker and Jay Irving and Irwin Hasen
and Allen Saunders and legends like Frank Fogarty and editorial and sports
cartoonists I admired. And – as much of a legend as Rube – the iconic cartoonist,
illustrator, designer, muralist Russell Patterson. Like a face from Mount
Rushmore, with longish silver hair (then marking men as actors or artists) and
clipped moustache.
After dinner Al Smith unrolled a large sheet of Strathmore. Back
in his studio he had inscribed greetings to “the Richard Marshall Comics Club,”
a weekly gathering of my friends who liked to draw. And at the bottom he drew
Mutt and Jeff saying “Carry on, m’lads! The future of NCS may one day rest in
your hands!” Among the cartoonists who signed and drew their characters (or
caricatures of me) were Holman, Greene, Patterson, Saunders, Fogarty, Irving,
Hasen, Lynde, Mell, and Dunn; and Jack Tippit, Bill Lignante, Bill Crawford,
John Pierotti, Al Liederman, Jack Rosen, John Lehti, Matt Murphy, Mac Miller,
Irma Selz, and Tom Gill.
I could have floated home, but Al Smith drove me through the late
night out of Manhattan, over the George Washington Bridge, and along Route 9W
to my house. My parents had waited up, of course; and I think their best
anniversary present ever was seeing that poster and hearing my stories. My
father was a lifelong comics fan, and he ate up the stories about some of his
own favorite names.
Eventually many of these cartoonists became better friends; others
besides Dik attending my wedding; and I became Comics Editor to more than a few
at three syndicates several years later. In a “crowded life” in comics… that
October 25th was one crowded evening.
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