JULES FEIFFER EXITS AT THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH

 

Some Final Thoughts About 

Jules Feiffer:

A Friend's Recollections and Assessment

 by Rick Marschall

My friend -- our friend, speaking for uncountable cartoonists; fans of cartoons and comics; theatergoers; booklovers; political junkies; historians; animation fans; pop-culture aficionados; satirists; thinkers who like to laugh and laughers who like to think -- Jules Feiffer has died. He was weeks away from his 96th birthday. Even with those accumulated years, he packed much more creativity and notable achievements than many such lifespans could hold.

 

I will gather some memories I recently shared, and call up others. For a while I was Feiffer's editor -- not that he needed or wanted an editor; the syndicate where I worked distributed his weekly cartoon, so my job, basically, was to savor his work a few days earlier than the general public, that's all.

              

Jules Feiffer (January 26, 1929 – January 17, 2025) and friend

Jules Feiffer had many careers, as I suggested. Successful, extravagantly so, in terms of acceptance and honors. Specifically but not exhaustively: comic books (The Spirit); strips (his mononymous and eponymous Feiffer); books (many collections, and original titles like Passionella and Other Stories); children’s books (including A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears); animation (script for Munro, 1961 Oscar); graphic novels (Kill My Mother and others); illustration (The Phantom Tollbooth); musicals (The Man In the Ceiling); plays (Little Murders); screenplays (Carnal Knowledge and Popeye); novels (such as Harry, The Rat with Women); histories (The Great Comic-Book Heroes); autobiography (Backing Into Forward). 

Feiffer's activities, titles, honors, and credits are tips of many icebergs. Everyone knows his name and his works. His wispy lines and casual compositions, even to the invariable absence of panel borders in the strips, were deceptively simple. But his work betrays a killer grasp of anatomy. (See his his favored dancing figures.)

When I was a kid, the only reason I bought The Village Voice was to read Feiffer; just as the original reason I bought The Realist was Jean Shepherd. So when I became Comics Editor of Publishers Newspaper Syndicate (previously Hall Syndicate and Field Enterprises and Publishers-Hall; and eventually News America Syndicate and North America Syndicate…) I arranged to see him in New York. As I did with most of the cartoonists, I established contact and visited them in their lairs. Jules lived in Manhattan, upper West Side, and in my first visit, a look at his walls, where so many other things could and did hang, I discovered that he liked vintage comic strips. During our visit I agreed to sell him an early Gasoline Alley Sunday original that I had acquired from Vaughn Shoemaker, the Pulitzer-winning political cartoonist and friend of Frank King.

A drawing of  Richard Nixon around the time of the 
president’s resignation. Feiffer parlayed Nixon’s corruption and scandals into two books.

Jules wrote an introduction to one of my Popeye reprints volumes for Fantagraphics; and for a Terry and the Pirates reprint book under my Remco imprint. He signed copies of his Barrel of Laughs book for each of my children. And before he died I was in contact about his possibly writing the Foreword to a literary find -- an unpublished 1931 Popeye novel by E C Segar. My son owns the manuscript, and whenever it gets published, the public will miss the thoughts of Popeye's Number One fan.

In the 1990s I was living in Abington PA. One day I received a call from my friend Tony Auth, the Pulitzer-winning political cartoonist of the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was to host Jules Feiffer and ferry him to an appearance sponsored by a synagogue in the neighboring town of Cheltenham; would I be interested to have them visit me beforehand? I raised the ante and invited them for dinner. That turned into a full and fun afternoon – and early dinner prepped by my wife Nancy – digging through piles of originals, stacks of old newspaper comics; runs of political-cartoon magazines like Puck, Judge, Life, and The Masses; and many more of the rare old European magazines of graphic commentary and social protest. Jules loved the classic cartoons. After dinner we drove to the packed house in the town's high school.

Now, Abington and Cheltenham are toney communities in the Philly suburbs. Bill Cosby lived in the latter town then, and on the high school's wall of celebrity graduates was Benjamin Netanyahu (if you ever wonder why he speaks like an American). So, it was a sophisticated and literate audience that evening. Jules had his slide-show and talked about politics and art and drama, but kept returning to what had him buzzing -- this cartoonist, that drawing, those great days of graphic satire, and so forth, that he had just seen at Rick Marschall's, and so forth. Probably two people out of 600 knew who the hell Rick was, but heady stuff, for me.  

From my collection, a promotional drawing from when Feiffer's weekly Village Voice commentary strip went into national syndication.

In Jules's last years he had macular problems, threatening an artist's version of  Beethoven's deafness. But he continued to work and create and think and laugh. And, as always, make us think and laugh. 

THE FAMILY JULES

 Jules Feiffer, the 95-year-old cartoonist inhabited by the 7-year-old joyful kid.

A couple of profiles and interviews with the great Jules Feiffer recently have appeared in various outlets. The occasion, or excuse to luxuriate in his insights, charm, and wisdom, in Jules' latest book Amazing Grapes, a graphic novel for children.

Predictably, the best interview has been conducted by Steven Heller in his PRINT Magazine blog, Daily Heller -- 
https://www.printmag.com/daily-heller/the-daily-heller-jules-feiffer-at-95-doing-the-best-work-of-my-life/  

(Do you know Steve Heller's site? He has written more books on graphic design and illustration than the fabled library at Alexandria could have held; and has been Art Director of consequential publications; and was a fellow faculty member of the School of Visual Arts. Yesterday's Papers readers should follow his essential work!)

Jules Feiffer is a national treasure, a polymath whose station-stops in the comics world have been mere details, perhaps his most cherished, in a busy life. Comic books (The Spirit), strips (his mononymous Feiffer), books (many collections, and original titles like Passionella and Other Stories), children’s books (including A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears), animation (script for Munro, 1961 Oscar),graphic novels (Kill My Mother and others), illustration (The Phantom Tollbooth), musicals (The Man In the Ceiling), plays (Little Murders), screenplays (Carnal Knowledge and Popeye), novels (such as Harry, The Rat with Women), histories (The Great Comic-Book Heroes), and autobiography (Backing Into Forward). Jules has collected so many awards and honors that he had to move from Manhattan to Shelter Island, just to make room. 

I have been blessed to have known Jules for many years, and occasionally to work with him. When I was Comics Editor of Publishers Newspaper Syndicate I technically was his editor... but with certain cartoonists like Jules and Bill Mauldin and Herblock under my wing, I was taking money under false pretenses. What was there to do but sit back at every creation and marvel at their craft? 

I visited Jules in his Upper West Side apartment during a visit from Chicago, when I was the nominal editor of his weekly Feiffer. It was, more, an excuse for a meet-and-greet, and I had a grand time. I knew that Jules was a historian of early comic books, and learned that he loved vintage newspaper strips too. (In fact, during our visit I agreed to sell him an early Gasoline Alley Sunday original that I had acquired from Vaughn Shoemaker, the Pulitzer-winning political cartoonist and friend of Frank King. 

I had had dinner, that evening, with Maurice Horn, who had hired me to write entries for his World Encyclopedia of Comics. He waited in a local coffee shop for word that he could join us; I asked Jules if that would be OK. It was not. Horn was cordially despised by the National Cartoonists Society, the Newspaper Comics Council, and individual cartoonists -- in fact this even before his imputed offenses in the WEOC; there were controversies stemming from an exhibition at the New York Cultural Center and, well, himself. So Maurice languished in the coffee shop, like one of Edward Hopper's Night Owls.

But my contacts with Jules remained cordial. He wrote an introduction to one of my Popeye reprints volumes for Fantagraphics; and for a Terry and the Pirates reprint book under my Remco imprint. He signed copies of his Barrel of Laughs book for each of children, treasured by them and their father.

In the 1990s I was living in Abington PA. One day I received a call from my friend Tony Auth, the Pulitzer-winning political cartoonist of the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was to host Jules Feiffer and ferry him to an appearance at a Temple in the neighboring town of Cheltenham; would I be interested to have them visit beforehand? I rtaised the ante and invited them for dinner. We spent most of the afternoon looking through books and old magazines and drawings in my collection; then Nancy made a wonderful dinner; then, with a teacher from France who was staying with us at the time, we drove to the packed house in the town's high school.

Now, Abington and Cheltenham are toney communities in the Philly suburbs. Bill Cosby lived in the latter town then, and on the high school's wall of celebrity graduates was Benjamin Netanyahu (if you ever wonder why he speaks like an American). So, it was a sophisticated and literate audience that evening. Jules had his slide-show (note to younger readers: slides were the primal ancestors of PowerPoint...) and talked about politics and art and drama, but kept returned to what had him buzzing -- this cartoonist, that drawing, those great days of graphic satire, that he had just seen at Rick Marschall's. Amazing grapes of my own, that day and evening.

As mentioned in Steve Heller's interview, Jules is having macular problems. Well, his drawing just fine; perhaps a little onerous to produce. His mind is just as facile... and our own eyes and ears and hearts and minds are as open as always to Jules Feiffer's wonderful work. 

   

A Crowded Life in Comics –

Precious Jules

(Jules Feiffer)

These memoirs will sometimes coincide with other remembrances, so I was reminded that the day I write this, January 26, is the birthday of Jules Feiffer. He was born in 1929. It has been one of the honors of my life to know Jules, to call him a friend, to have worked with him.

Knowing Jules is a cheap way of feeling like a whole room-full of people are friends. It saves time. Having conducted many interviews and written biographies, one day I realized that precious few cartoonists have had feet – or hands – in virtually every category of cartoon art. Walt Kelly is one – strips, comic books, animation, political cartoons, columns, music, illustration, advertising. Al Capp came close to that “full house.”

Jules Feiffer has had many careers – succeeding, and successful, activity in even more realms besides cartoons: comic books (The Spirit), strips (his mononymous Feiffer), books (many collections, and original titles like Passionella and Other Stories), children’s books (including A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears), animation (script for Munro, 1961 Oscar),graphic novels (Kill My Mother and others), illustration (The Phantom Tollbooth), musicals (The Man In the Ceiling), plays (Little Murders), screenplays (Carnal Knowledge and Popeye), novels (such as Harry, The Rat with Women), histories (The Great Comic-Book Heroes), and autobiography (Backing Into Forward). Jules has collected so many awards and honors that he had to move from Manhattan to Shelter Island, just to make room.

These activities, titles, and credits are tips of many icebergs; and everyone knows his name and his works. The wispy lines and casual compositions, even to the invariable absence of panel borders in the strips. But his works, especially lately and especially his favored dancing figures, betray a killer grasp of anatomy. (I was also grateful to compile a preliminary list of his ouevre, because I seldom get the chance to employ “mononymous,” much less “oeuvre.”)

[a] A promotional drawing for the FEIFFER newspaper strip,
when it went nationwide in syndication.

When I was a kid, the only reason I bought The Village Voice was to read Feiffer; just as the original reason I bought The Realist was Jean Shepherd. So when I became Comics Editor of Publishers Newspaper Syndicate (previously Hall Syndicate and Field Enterprises and Publishers-Hall; and eventually News America Syndicate and North America Syndicate…) Jules Feiffer was in my stable.

Only technically. Like Herblock and a few others, Feiffer was a cartoonist who was distributed by us, but “edited” separately or by others. Milton Caniff’s Steve Canyon carried our copyright, but contrary-wise, was edited and distributed by King Features. So I never had to edit Feiffer’s work – how could anyone, except maybe spelling errors? – but I sure enjoyed the advance peeks. Since many strips were topical, he worked on a tight deadline, two at a time.

As I did with most of the cartoonists while I was at Publisher’s, I established contact and visited them in their lairs. Jules lived in Manhattan, upper West Side, and in my first visit, a look at his walls, where so many other things could and did hang, I discovered that he liked vintage comic strips. I was able sell him some treasures from my collection, and others I found.

[b] A drawing of the Honorable Richard Nixon around the time of the 
president’s resignation. Feiffer published two books off Nixon’s corruption and scandals.

Not a surprise to anyone who appreciates his output, but Jules is a polymath, interested in almost everything, and the point, modestly but earnestly, of wanting to know everything about everything.

We had other meetings including at meetings of the American Association of Editorial Cartoonists, but the fondest memory is one I have told here in a remembrance of Tony Auth. When I lived outside Philadelphia, Tony called one day and said that Jules was coming to town – actually Cheltenham, the next town to my Abington – to speak at the high school in a special evening program. Cheltenham is a special enclave, its high school lobby’s wall festooned with pictures of notable grads including unlikelies like Benjamin Netanyahu. But that night Jules Feiffer would grace the stage.

Tony, Pulitzer Prize winner of the Inquirer, was asked by Jules to be his shepherd and guide that day; and Tony in turn asked if they might visit my house, maybe to look at parts of my collection.

[c] Feiffer, June 15, 1967

Well, that turned into a full and fun afternoon – and early dinner prepped by my wife Nancy – digging through piles of originals, stacks of old newspaper comics; runs of political-cartoon magazines like Puck, Judge, Life, and The Masses; and many more of the rare old European magazines of graphic commentary and social protest. Jules loved the classic cartoons.

I loved it more when that evening, in the school auditorium, despite his slide show, he made repeated references to things in “Rick’s collection,” with probably two people out of 600 knew who the hell Rick was (and they were Tony Auth and a friend from France who staying with us).

Jules is still going strong at 90, the last I checked writing, drawing, and teaching. A great life, and life for us to behold, for a kid from the Bronx who started in the business(es) by offering to work for free with Will Eisner. That’s the spirit! – that’s how much he loved drawing cartoons. After success with Eisner, he first approached the Voice with the same offer – that’s how much he loved drawing cartoons.

Great lessons, precious Jules.

25

A Crowded Life in Comics – Tony Auth

.[sketch by Tony Auth (1942-2014)].

An Auth-entic Friend

by Rick Marschall

This installment of A Crowded Life in Comics will recall a cartoonist whose feet were in strips and political cartoons, in fact Pulitzer prize-winning politicals.

Tony Auth drew for the Philadelphia Inquirer his whole career, subsequent to work as a medical illustrator.  Those first jobs had him drawing medical equipment and examples of procedures for manuals and magazines. On the Inqui, he eviscerated politicians. And as the accompanying sketch shows, he never became squeamish at the sight of blood, or shy of depicting it. Me, I once dreamed of being a tree surgeon, but dropped out of training because I couldn’t stand the sight of… sap.

I had some contact with Tony when I wrote his entry for The World Encyclopedia of Cartoons around 1980. But by the late ‘80s I was living outside Philadelphia, and we were locals, meeting frequently for lunch or phone chats.

I visited him in his studio at the Inquirer, center city, until it became tougher for any visitors to visit any staffers there subsequent to his famous Israel cartoon. After Jonathan Pollard, “American,” was arrested for spying for Israel, Tony drew a cartoon of Uncle Sam being led by the nose… the ring through his nose was in the shape of the Star of David, which ring was labeled “Pollard Spy Ring.” After this appeared, members of the Jewish Defense league somehow made their way into his studio and trashed it in major fashion.

After that, cameras, security measures, and tightly controlled passes and IDs, already spreading throughout society in general, were imposed by the newspaper. Tony Auth admitted to looking over his shoulder occasionally, but was not cowed thereafter. Not his style.

We were on opposite sides of the political fence – or, to fine-tune the metaphor, we were on distant fields on either side of that fence. But fast friends. He was self-effacing and modest in person.

My son Ted was a film major at Temple University, with an interest in making documentaries; and eventually became a TV news producer. He has worked in Orlando, Palm Springs, Las Vegas, Seattle, and elsewhere, and interned at MSNBC of all places, contributing to the old Imus in the Morning and Alan Keyes shows. But his first venture as a class project was a studio documentary of Tony Auth, who was very generous with an entire afternoon. I thought its opening was clever: sound effect of scratch, scratch, scratch. Picture comes up, dark studio with closeup of Tony Auth, pen to paper, executing his trademark cross-hatch lines. Pull back, then interview. Nice job; Tony’s niceness came through.

JULES FEIFFER. Once Tony called and said that Jules Feiffer was coming to town, speaking at a temple in Cheltenham, next town from me. Would I like a visit? I raised him one step, and invited them to dinner at our home before the talk. My wife Nancy made a wonderful meal, but the afternoon was spent, first, going through my collection of originals and books and old magazines, all of which fascinated Jules.

I had not seen Jules in years, although we corresponded, and he wrote a Foreword to one of my Popeye volumes. We had a house guest that week, a teacher from France who did not know Jules’ newspaper work, but knew his name from the screenplay for the Popeye movie. She attended the talk too.

Jules was so taken by the cartoon treasures we climbed through that he made frequent references in his talk to the giants of yesteryear, and the great forgotten creations; and my collection. Nobody in the audience knew who I was, but it was nice. One of the reasons to collect!

NORB. Tony eventually broadened his palette, so to speak – to color cartoons in the paper’s Sunday magazine; to children’s books (one written by Chaim Potok, which Tony thoughtfully got inscribed to me); to a comic strip for King Features, Norb, written by NPR humorist Daniel Pinkwater. Later installments in this space will discuss that work, especially Norb, a whimsical strip whose settings even included a Home for Retired Comic-Strip Characters.

The last time I saw Tony… well, I almost saw Tony. He had left the Inquirer around 2012, to pursue “digital artwork,” which he did, but a) he was about 70 anyway; and b) the wave of Journalism Cutbacks – now a tsunami – was asserting itself. It was a couple years later, I was in Philadelphia with my girlfriend and wanted to see Tony again (and show off what cool friends I have) but my call was met with his wife Eliza’s news of his inability to see anyone. One day later I did not have to “read between the lines.” Tony died of brain cancer.

Among the sketches Tony Auth drew was this portrait of a Medieval knight and Unc Sam. He had called me once, needing reference, if I had it, for a medieval joust he wanted to base a cartoon on. Did I have any Prince Valiant material? – he knew already where he wanted to “borrow.” In two hours I delivered all my Val books and reprints and  a stack of old tearsheets. His cartoon (I think an anti-Reagan jab) was printed, and, better for me to see, the material was returned with this sketch. No reading between these lines.

•!•

3.