Showing posts with label Walt Kelly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walt Kelly. Show all posts

Sunday, October 25, 2020

A Crowded Life in Comics –

 Pogo For President.


The 1956 campaign produced buttons almost as large as some of the candidates themselves.

Rick Marschall.

Politics has always been its own “character,” so to speak, in comic strips; an ever-present topic in times of trouble. Or “ever-president,” even. William McKinley visited Hogan’s Alley; Theodore Roosevelt wrestled Foxy Grandpa (and inspired the newspaper cartoon “The Roosevelt Bears”); Calvin Coolidge appeared in Mutt and Jeff; and so forth.

Ever since R F Outcault, many cartoonists have fallen back on presidents and politics and current events for daily gags or entire sequences. Garry Trudeau might be in the aluminum-siding business today if not for Nixon, Trump, and every president in between providing material.


The original strip that Walt Kelly sent me when I was a kid was from the immediate aftermath of Fremount the Bug’s losing campaign. The dialog deals with campaign “promises” (rather than pledges and commitments and other euphemisms), that have reentered the political discourse this year…

Presidents and politics were logical denizens of the funnies from jump street, not only Hogan’s Alley. Cartoon weeklies and newspaper comic sections ran political cartoons before sequential strips were codified, so the evolution was natural.

Even considering Al Capp, who eventually spanned the entire political horizon left to right in Li’l Abner, there was no strip cartoonist before our time who addressed politics more than Walt Kelly. Pogo trafficked in politics heavily (not quite a traffic jam, but occasionally supplanting regular settings and characters); Kelly made slight and sometimes subtle references; he caricatured politicians; he ignited controversy and publicity…

… and Pogo even ran for president. At least twice. In fact as many times as Harold Stassen or Joe Biden. In 1952 and 1956 the possum was a candidate, at least in syndicate PR campaigns beyond the strip. Citizens sported Pogo pinbacks. College campuses held Pogo for President rallies. TIME, Newsweek, and Life ran stories. In the next cycle, Pogo stepped aside as an Okefenokee bug named Fremount ran for the White House.



Walt Kelly made TV appearances with Eleanor Roosevelt in get-out-the-vote drives. 

In 1968 and 1972 actual candidates (not as actual humans, though) romped through the strip, superb caricatures of LBJ, George Wallace, and Spiro Agnew stealing the spotlight. Kelly had been a political cartoonist in the past – between animation and comics books and strip periods – and in his case, it was not evolution, but facilely switching hats. (I recently noted here that he was virtually the only cartoonist who worked in, and mastered, every cartooning genre of his day.)

So politics can provide humor. Even when dealing with grave matters. In that regard, it was from beyond the “grave” that Pogo delved into politics after the death of Walt Kelly. 

In 1980 Walt’s widow Selby worked with filmmakers who wanted a re-“run” of a presidential campaign. Rather than animation (Walt and Selby had met when they both worked at Disney) the production was stop-action in figures made of “Flexiform.” Walt had worked on TV animated cartoon with Chuck Jones shortly before he died, but this production, I Go Pogo – the Movie was all three-dimensional characters, props, and backgrounds.


A rare 8-sheet of the 1980 stop-cation movie I Go Pogo.

The actors who supplied voices in the productions formed a Who’s Who of great comedic talent and range: Jonathan Winters; Stan Freberg; Vincent Price; Arnold Stang; Ruth Buzzi;  Skip Hinnant (who played Schroeder in off-Broadway’s You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown; and the voice of Bakshi’s Fritz the Cat); and even Kelly’s old New York drinking buddy, columnist Jimmy Breslin.

That was 40 years ago. Various publications and aspiring resurrections of the possum’s quadrennial pastime continued, and still might, for who-knows-how-many ever-lovin’ blue-eyed years.

Win or lose, right or wrong, left or right, it was appropriate that politics was an important component of Pogo’s world. After all, we always hear what a swamp the political game is.

   

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Tuesday, August 25, 2020

A Crowded Life in Comics –


We HAVE Met the Enemy…


By Rick Marschall

I met Walt Kelly, but I never had a conversation with him. To be less precise, I talked to him a few times. If that isn’t clear – and it hardly is to me; stick with me – we chatted, or people walking about us probably thought we did.

This is a backwards way of admitting that one of the regrets of my life is never having talked to Walt Kelly while he was sober. At the tender age of 11, I was invited by cartoonists to meetings of the National Cartoonists Society in New York; not the annual Reuben awards, but monthly meetings at the legendary Lamb’s Club. It was an old actor’s clubhouse (I don’t mean for old actors… no, I guess I do. I once walked past Brian Aherne asleep in an overstuffed red-leather chair), full of character and memories and ancient cigar smoke and treasured mementos on the walls. Each month the NCS had the dining room and meeting rooms for meetings.

It was a different time. No cartoonist in the tri-state area ever wanted to miss a meeting: drinks; dinner; drinks; some musical or comedy entertainment; drinks; “Shop Talk” – an interview panel with, perhaps, an editor, or a cartoonist from out on town. And drinks.


I was too young to drink anything but ginger ale; but the whole set-up put me at a disadvantage with some of the cartoonists. Particularly Walt Kelly.

Many of my contemporary heroes, like Rube and Russ Patterson, were at those meetings (and some heroes-to-be, like Al Kilgore and Creig Flessel) but seeing a guy with “Walt Kelly” on his name tag sent me to the Moon.

Walt always had a head start on everyone at the bar, and thereafter (as Der Captain might have said) “Society Iss Nix.” I persisted through his fog, and, thinking back, it must have been a ridiculous sight that this kid grilled him about T S Sullivant and his early favorites, and other inanities.


There was one silver lining, perhaps. I must have given him my name and address, as I did to other cartoonists. These slips of paper led to some friendships; with Walt it evidently led to confusion when he found it in his pocket the next morning. God bless him, I’m sure he forgot what exactly the kid was asking for… but he compensated by sending a daily Pogo, some sketchbook material, and – strangely – some old drawings and clippings from his days on the New York Star, and proofs or freelance work for Newsweek.

Gratefully received!


You know, instead of the title I chose above, I could call this essay “Plus ca change, plus c’est le meme chose,” because some of that old material was political. And… who IS the “enemy”? I will be mysterious. But we are in a political season (in case you haven’t noticed) and Kelly frequently dealt with politics, even of course in Pogo.

The French phrase is translated, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” This aphorism is true in politics as in other areas of life – in fact, even my dinner is repeating on me at the moment. But here I will share some of Kelly’s lesser-known, or seldom seen, cartoon work.

See if they foreshadow any politics of our own time. If not… order another drink, and they’ll start to. Trust me.


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Sunday, November 4, 2018

A Crowded Life in Comics – National Cartoonists Society

Rick Marschall

My One Evening As the NCS Attorney

CARTOONIST SKETCHES - NCS poster for RM 1961

::

            Another anniversary just passed. For me, anyway; my personal Crowded Life. October 25 was my parents’ birthday and will always be tattooed on my “brain.” This year I flew to New York City on Oct 25 to deliver a speech to the Theodore Roosevelt Association’s annual symposium. The next evening, on TR’s birthday, the keynote banquet speaker was Conan O’Brien, Harvard history grad and enthusiastic Theodore Roosevelt acolyte – a true Ted-Head – whom I had been helping over the past couple months with research and images. For this little work he called me “the brilliant Rick Marschall” in his speech.

Rick Marschall & Conan O'Brien, TRA Symposium
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
          Bill Holman was president, or anyway presided, as only he could – yes, everything you would imagine from him was delivered. He actually asked me to the microphone; I answered some questions; and I demurred when invited to say something on my own. Believe it or not I had anticipated this crazy eventuality, and prepared some lame joke about a missing cocktail at the bar, and guessing that “Bob Dunn it,” and I thank God that my tongue hath cleaveth to the roof of my mouth in such moments.

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.
 
Al Smith, flanked by Mac Miller and Fred Waring, holding the NCS self-caricature jam.
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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14

Monday, September 21, 2015

Pogo Primers Issued by US Government

 
 1  “…idiotic…”
WHEN issued by the Children’s Bureau of the US Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, the 24-page Pogo Primer For Parents (TV Division) — a 1961 booklet written and drawn by Walt Kelly — drew a sour notice from Rep. H.R. Gross (R-Iowa). Reverend Gross dismissed Kelly’s primer as “…idiotic. If that’s all HEW’s Children’s Bureau has to do it’s time for a house-cleaning…”

 2  ‘A possum puts tv bugbear into perspective,’ a review in Broadcasting, August 28, 1961.
 3   Pogo Primer Por Parents (TV Division), page 5.
 4   Jimmy Breslin with Walt Kelly in a commercial for Piels Beer, August 1964.
 5   The front cover of another primer by Walt Kelly from 1965, titled Pogo: Welcome to the Beginning — Work Training, issued by the US Department of Labor. “I am happy to present you with your Neighborhood Youth Corps ID Card. You have now joined a nationwide program which will help you become more employable…”

See the complete Pogo Primer For Parents (TV Division), Headliner Series, Number 2, HERE.
More about Pogo: Welcome to the Beginning HERE.
And The Man From Pogo in Yesterday’s Papers HERE.

 6   Ebony Magazine self-portrait, Nov 1966.
   
  ¡!¡ 
    

Monday, July 13, 2009

Songs of the Pogo



A friend gave me an old 78 (he had two copies) featuring 3 songs from the 1956 album Songs of the Pogo; Don't Sugar Me, Lines Upon a Tranquil Brow, and Go Go Pogo. Don't Sugar Me has vocal by Fia Karin, the others by himself, Walt Kelly.

How to describe the voice of the satirist/cartoonist. Lets see -- take equal parts of the voice of hipster comedian Lord Buckley, Tom Wait's growl, and Harmonica Frank Floyd's nasal howl and you have Walt Kelly's Go Go Pogo. He snarls, snorts, yodels, and testifies like a cornpone medicine show auctioneer, a backwoods preacher, or a beat poet on bad bennies backed by an orchestral jazz band. Dig these crazy lyrics sung at tongue-twisting breakneck speed:

Wheeling, West Virginia

With ev'rything that's in ya

Down the line You'll see the shine

From Oregon to Caroline,

Oh, eenie meenie minie Kokomo go Pogo

Tishimingo, sing those lingo

whistling go

Shamokin to Hoboken

Chenango to Chicango

It's golly

I go goo goo goin' go go Pogo!

Monday, September 15, 2008

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Ten Ever-Lovin’ Blue-Eyed Years with Pogo



“At several points, Kelly would have us believe a duck is employed as a mailman in a well-known Southern swamp. Where did he obtain this information? Where, in other words, is the source for this duck? What good is a duck without a source?” Bill Vaughan in the Kansas City Star, November 1959.

Walt Kelly was many things to many people. Foremost he was a humorist and comic strip artist, but he was also a gentle teacher of the nation’s young, who he knew would follow Pogo from the nursery comics to the newspapers. By crafting a comic strip for adults and children he helped to steer the children through a period fraught with fear and anxiety, a period he referred to in a Saturday Review article as the “cold-hearted war.” The children’s love for Kelly’s creations knew no bounds. In 1950 a four year old girl left her happy home in search of Albert Alligator. Police took her in hand as she exited a bus in Chattanooga, 200 miles from her home.

Pogo was a highly intellectual strip but Walt Kelly understood that the audience for comic strips was the average family, the same readers who rated Blondie the number one comic strip of the nineteen fifties. He noted that it was “widely thought, and erroneously, that the comics page is for children. It is partially, but mainly it is for the fellow who buys the newspaper, and he usually shaves and reads the sports pages too.”

On the surface Kelly’s poems, songs and stories were funny but on a subliminal level they left messages, teaching and subtle warnings in the reader’s minds. A poem like “This is the Hunt,” (1954) a story like “Who Stole the Tarts?,” (1954) or a continuity like “The Atom Bugs” (1950) had a subtle educational effect on the mind. They imparted wisdom and laughed at bigotry and bullies. The readers understood and they stuffed Kelly’s mailbox with millions of letters. Kelly, in turn, never underestimated the intelligence of his readers.

“My mail is about half from children and half from adults and the half from the children shows a high level of understanding, a perception and awareness of life (which I don’t remember stumbling across in my salad days) , and a great sense of humor. The adults who write have not much to be ashamed of in comparison. All of these people seem to understand what the strip is about and the letters are usually full of phrases such as “This is the first fan letter I have ever written,” and “Here’s an idea that occurred to me when I was studying the editorial page in search of laughs.”

The importance of Ten Ever-Lovin’ Blue-Eyed Years with Pogo, published in 1959, and covering the years 1948-1959, lies in it’s wise appeal to young and old through allegory, fable, image, history and language. Our first experience with Walt Kelly was through the nursery comics published by the Western Publishing & Lithographic Company. Parents bought The Brownies, Raggedy Ann and Andy, Fairy Tale Parade, Mother Goose Comics, and the incomparable Pogo Possum to be read to the tads and tots in their malleable years. Kelly knew the kids would follow him from the comic books to the newspaper comic strip and he always worked with one tender eye on that audience.

I was ten (1960) when my brother brought home a fat hardcover copy of Ten Ever-Lovin’ Blue-Eyed Years with Pogo from the local library. I didn’t quite understand everything I read, the political references were over my head, but I read over and over those which I could understand. The fractured English that the citizens of Okefenokee swamp spoke was Kelly’s gently subversive way of teaching children about the pits and pratfalls of world politics while, at the same time, developing in the reader notions of tolerance and respect through wise fairy tale allegories about the vagaries of human nature. Kelly used the same techniques, metaphor, parable, and the fairy story, in his articles for adults. Pogo was both entertaining and instructive.

As I matured I found my understanding of the language and message of Pogo growing, and increasingly my orbs would wander from the funny pictures to the explanatory articles interspersed among the comics. These were partly autobiographical and mainly political. In these explanatory sections Kelly addressed McCarthyism and loyalty oaths, the cold war and the atomic bomb, censorship, war, complacency, ignorance, and above all intolerance. When Kelly wrote these words he was, once again, always, writing for his double audience of children and adults.



Walter Crawford Kelly, Jr. (1913-1973) was born in Philadelphia and raised in Bridgeport, Connecticut. His father, a theatrical scene painter, gave him his first drawing lessons. In time he became a reporter, writer, and artist for the local Bridgeport Post, where he recalled, he illustrated the life of Bridgport’s most famous citizen, P. T. Barnum, three times. In 1935 he was hired by the Disney studios and worked at animation for the next six years under the encouraging wing of top model man Charles Thorson, a colourful cartoonist from Winnipeg, Manitoba. The model man’s job was to provide the animators with sketches of the characters from all sides showing all manner of action and facial expression. The two worked together on Snow White and Dumbo.

Pogo originated as a “spear-carrier” in a feature called “Bumbazine and Albert the Alligator” in 1943’s Animal Comics published by Dell Comics, which led to a feature comic book in October 1949, “Pogo Possum,” which had an initial press run of 500,000. Meanwhile Kelly continued drawing “Peter Wheat,” a monthly advertising giveaway, while working for Dell. The Pogo comic book was still being published when Kelly carried the talking marsupial to the New York Star where the comic strip began running on October 4, 1948. Only a few papers outside New York picked up the strip until the Post - Hall Syndicate took over in May 1949. Pogo began with about four clients and the daily was soon joined by a colour Sunday page. The Sunday was usually humorous, Kelly kept his political musings mainly in the daily strips.

Pogo was so successful, with an estimated 37,000,000 readers in 1952, that the first of many book collections, “Pogo,” was published by Simon & Schuster in 1951. Canadians were so enamoured of Pogo that in 1950 the staff of the Montreal Star, which published no comics, pleaded with the rival Montreal Herald to run the feature, which they obligingly did. The National Cartoonists Society named Walt Kelly Cartoonist of the Year in 1952. Folksinger Tom Parrott recorded a Kelly song “Only the lone (one small score for two brown eyes)” in 1968 for Folkway Records.

Walt Kelly’s influence on the post-war generation was incalculable and his work is still pertinent to recent troubling times. The last words in Ten Ever-Lovin’ Blue-Eyed Years with Pogo were widely disseminated in shortened form as “we have met the enemy and he is us,” adopted as a poster promoting Earth Day in 1970. The original 1959 quote read “There is no need to sally forth, for it remains true that those things which make us human are, curiously enough, always close at hand. Resolve then, that on this very ground, with small flags waving and tinny blast on tiny trumpets, we shall meet the enemy, and not only may he be ours, he may be us.”



Hugh Maclean, in an article in the Canadian Forum (The Decline of the Comics Jan. 1954), once described Pogo as “the little possum who comprehends us all.” Walt Kelly (who died in 1973, peace to his manes) left us all a prescient song, “For Lewis Carroll and the Children,” first published in 1954 with a poignant illustration:

The gentle journey jars to stop.
The drifting dream is done.
The long gone goblins loom ahead;
The deadly, that we thought were dead,
Stand waiting, every one.

Pogo’s Pal Kelly by Harrison Fisher, MacLean’s Magazine, April 15, 1950

Pogo Looks at the Abominable Snowman by Walt Kelly, the Saturday Review, August 30, 1958

Reuben Awards page on Walt Kelly