Q Toon: Doctors' Orders

As soon as Vice President Pence's task force on Novel Coronavirus-19 was announced, we learned that its chief mission was to control any information that might come out of it. Their meetings are closed to the public, and the health experts on the task force are not permitted to discuss anything with the media without prior clearance from above.

President Trump has suddenly gone all Pollyanna on us, promising a vaccine any day now and that we can all keep on just keeping on, no big whup, as long as we build his big ugly wall against Mexico and keep all the cruise ships out at sea. 96.6% of us will be just fine.

History tells us that it's not as simple as that.

When the influenza epidemic of 1918 infected a quarter of the U.S. population, killing tens of millions of people, seemingly small choices made the difference between life and death.
As the disease was spreading, Wilmer Krusen, Philadelphia’s health commissioner, allowed a huge parade to take place on September 28th; some 200,000 people marched. In the following days and weeks, the bodies piled up in the city’s morgues. By the end of the season, 12,000 residents had died.
In St. Louis, a public health commissioner named Max Starkloff decided to shut the city down. Ignoring the objections of influential businessmen, he closed the city’s schools, bars, cinemas, and sporting events. Thanks to his bold and unpopular actions, the per capita fatality rate in St. Louis was half that of Philadelphia. (In total roughly 1,700 people died from influenza in St Louis.)
In the coming days, thousands of people across the country will face the choice between becoming a Wilmer Krusen or a Max Starkloff.

We've already seen cancellation of this year's tennis tournament at Indian Wells, California, and limiting of the Tokyo Marathon to elite runners. The National Basketball Association has suspended its season until further notice. Other sports events are playing in empty stadiums.

Presidential candidates are being pressured to stop holding campaign rallies (where the standing-room-only crowds typically wait for hours before the candidate shows up). This shouldn't be a problem for Tulsi Gabbard; but deprived of the cheers of his adoring fans, Trump's withdrawal symptoms are going to be ugly.

Italy is on lockdown, the Louvre was closed for a few days, Coachella has been postponed to November, Major St. Patrick's Day parades and D.C.'s Gridiron Dinner have been cancelled, and luxury cruise ships are turning into floating prisons.

When our late-night TV hosts start delivering their monologues and interview celebrities in empty studios next week, will anyone laugh at home? Should the Republican and Democratic National Conventions be held by teleconference?

This will affect everyday life too. We've been through this before: gay men had to change our sex practices with the advent of AIDS. Society was forced to change its tolerance of ubiquitous tobacco smoking once the connection of second-hand smoke to cancer became undeniable. But we're not talking about managing the spread of a disease by breaking one habit.

How will this pandemic will impact public schools, houses of worship, nursing homes, mass transit, shopping centers, and restaurants? It has slashed gas prices, but what is it doing to your (or your parents') retirement plan?

Can you make it through the next ten minutes without touching your face?

One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

This week's episode of Sneezeback Saturday catches (up on) the Spanish Influenza epidemic in the fall of 1918, which was at its worst in October.

"La Nouvelle Indisposition" by TEL in L'Homme Libre, Paris, August 24, 1918

But first, let's reach back to August, when the French cartoonist penning under the nom de plume "TEL" referenced the Spanish Flu in a cartoon about Spain's official letters of protest to Germany over the sinking of Spanish ships. Neutral in the war, Spain nevertheless lost a fifth of its merchant marine and at least 100 Spanish sailors to German torpedoes. In retaliation, the Spanish government threatened to confiscate an equal number of German ships if Germany did not guarantee safe passage for continued Spanish shipping.

"Speaking of Epidemics" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, September 25, 1918

There is a theory that Germany's defeat in the war was due in part to the Central Powers' armies being ravaged by the Spanish flu pandemic. That, and propaganda that the disease originated in Austria may or may not have helped inspire John McCutcheon's cartoon above. The Spanish flu was spreading through the Entente lines as well, however.

"Open a Window..." by Gaar Williams in Indianapolis News, Sept./Oct. 1918

As noted here before, the Spanish flu had nothing to do with Spain. The first documented case of the disease befell Private Albert Gitchell at Camp Funston, Fort Riley, Kansas in March of 1918; within a week, 100 more soldiers at Fort Riley had the disease, and it was spreading as the soldiers shipped out through New York to Europe.

"How to Get a Seat" by Maurice Ketten in New York World, October, 1918

Somehow, the contagion got the name Spanish flu even though there were no cases of the disease in Spain until November. In other European countries, wartime censorship kept the press from reporting the extent of the pandemic; the association of the disease with Spain may have had something to do with the lack of such wartime censorship there.

Detail from "The Rectangle" by Frank O. King in Chicago Tribune, November 10, 1918

We weren't about to let it be called "Kansan flu," you know.

"LaBarouche Toreador..." by J. McIsaac in Le Charivari, Montreal, Canada, October 19, 1918

Not that we actually fooled the rest of the world, or at least our neighbors to the north.

"Grand-dad Inadvertently Sneezed..." by William Donahey in Cleveland Plain Dealer, October, 1918

In spite of the tens of thousands of their fellow citizens stricken with the deadly flu, American cartoonists seem to have had a flippant attitude toward the disease. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that there was a deliberate campaign to downplay public fears.

"That Guiltiest Feeling" by Clare Briggs in Chicago Tribune, October, 1918

Well, I don't know any better, so I'm going right ahead with my plans to suspect a conspiracy borne of wartime censorship.

"It Happens in the Best of Families!" by Sid Chapin in St. Louis Republic, October, 1918

P.S.: Have you gotten your flu shot yet?

Simplicissimus's All-American Edition

Last week, we looked at several American cartoons celebrating allied victories in the mid-summer of 1918. By way of equal time, Simpleback Saturday presents each and every one of the cartoons in the August 27, 1918 edition of Simplicissimus, the German satirical weekly out of Munich.

"Amerika" by Wilhelm Schultz in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Every single cartoon but one* is critical of the United States. Wilhelm Schultz's cover cartoon, showing a buffalo driven by Woodrow Wilson and Theodore Roosevelt to charge the personification of Peace, pairs the incumbent president with one of the U.S.A.'s leading advocates of war prior to April, 1917. It mattered little to the staff of Simplicissimus that Roosevelt's youngest son, Quentin, had recently been killed in action over over the Marne River on July 14, 1918.

"Im Senat zu Washington" by Karl Arnold in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

If you've been following this series for a while, you may remember that there certainly were U.S. Senators and Congressmen who advocated against their country entering World War I, even after the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Wilson himself ran for reelection under the slogan "He Kept Us Out of War."

But has always happened since the days of President Polk, whenever a President decides it's time to go to war, any argument to the contrary is branded unpatriotic or worse.

"Das Land der Freiheit" by Thomas Theodor Heine in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Persecution of German-American citizens is a common theme in several of the August 27 cartoons. None of them, as far as I can tell, describe any actual incidents, any more than Sidney Joseph Greene's imagined tennis camp for saboteurs did. Interment camps in Fort Douglas, Utah and Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia housed some 2,048 German emigrants swept up under provisions of the Alien Enemies Act Presidential Proclamations issued shortly after the U.S. entry into the war. Many would not be released until June of 1919; some not until May of 1920.

"Deutschenverfolgung" by Eduard Thöny in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Even after some spectacular cases of espionage and sabotage by German agents in the U.S., only one German spy was ever sentenced to death in this country; and his sentence was commuted after the war. Nor is there any record of Germans being lynched in this country, although Eduard Thöny's cartoon demonstrates that our habit of race lynching was well-known beyond our borders.

"Der Sieg der Demokratie" by Karl Arnold in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Which is not to say that it was all tee and krullers for German-Americans. And while I know of no examples of tarring and feathering, there was a sharp rise in police reports against anything perceived as suspicious activity of Deutschsprachige citizens. If Gretchen and Hilda were gossiping over the back fence, they had better be doing it loudly and in English.

"Kinderhilfsdienst im America" by Carl Olav Petersen in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

"Honest, Your Honor, it was to me as 'Freedom Cabbage' being sold!"

"Es Lebe die Freiheit!" by Erich Schiller in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Two panels by Erich Schilling appear one atop the other as if they were meant to be two frames comprising one cartoon; but they each have their own title and there's no continuity between them, so I've put in my own little commentary between them just for the hell of it. In the top panel, what the U.S. called Liberty Loans he calls "Liberty Bonds." (Is "Freiheitsanleihe" an oxymoron in German as "Liberty Bond" is in English?) The U.S. government was about to authorize a fourth series of bonds of 1918, and a fifth bond would be necessary in April after the war was over.

Banks and other financial institutions took out Liberty Loans as an investment opportunity, but participation by private citizens was minimal. The first three bonds matured during the 1920s, but the government would default on the fourth bond in 1932.

"Schutz der Kleinen Völker" by Erich Schilling, still in Simplicissimus, still in Munich, still August 27, 1918

Schilling even casts some libel Thomas Edison's way, yet somehow without incorporating electricity into his imagined invention. I mean, seriously now, there's nothing to distinguish this Streckbank from its medieval forebears, and Mr. Edison was more imaginative than that.

He would have stolen the idea from Nikola Tesla instead.

"Wilsonismus" by Thomas Theodor Heine in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 27, 1918

Finally we reach the back page, where another cartoon by Thomas Theodor Heine seems to pair with a satirical story below it set in my home state:

The Adventure of Wisconsin

Several madmen made a tumultuous escape from an insane asylum in the state of Wisconsin. From the patriotic demeanor of their guards and caretakers, a number of the sick drew the curious conclusion that they were healthy, and demanded the immediate release to American freedom.
Only the time-tested absent-mindedness of Reverend Abraham O'Connor was to be thanked for avoiding severe outbursts. The venerable gentleman came to the escapees and exclaimed, "We strive for reason and morality! Be good idiots! Make your mistake good again! Buy Liberty Bonds!" — whereupon the rebels fled in terror into their cells and thanked God that they could stay in comfortable-idiotic bondage.

_________
* The sole exception is this single-column cartoon by R. Grieß tucked in among the advertisements on page six:

In heavily accented German (Google Translate wanted to know if I meant to translate from Luxembourgish), one of these vagabonds tells the other that one dog year equals seven human years. The other replies, "That may well be, but in war, one human year equals seven dog years."

The accent probably sells the joke.

Thankfully, World War I fell short of lasting seven human years. Meanwhile, returning to the present: today's incoming college freshmen — and, of course, fresh military recruits — have lived their entire lives with the United States at war in Afghanistan.

Remember the Marne!

Sopwithback Saturday returns yet again to the summer of a century ago, as World War I raises the curtain on Act III.

On balance, events in the first half of 1918 seemed to trend in favor of Kaiser Wilhelm's goals of a German-dominated Mitteleuropa. Russia and Romania had surrendered to Berlin's peace terms; fledgling Baltic nations were installing German princelings as their heads of state; and Germany's gargantuan  Pariser-Geschutz was lobbing shells into Paris with impunity.

"The 'Friedensturm'" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, ca. July or August, 1918

But in July and August, the Entente Powers beat back Germany's assault along the Marne River, General Ludendorff's "Friedensturm," which would prove to be Germany's final offensive of the war. Combined with Italy's repelling Austrian forces back across the Piave, the Central Powers found themselves on the defensive after five years of virtual stalemate on their western and southern fronts.

"Who's Looney Now?" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, ca. July/August, 1918

The allies' victories were thanks to a cooperative effort under Allied Commander Ferdinand Foch, a French general, but that didn't stop American cartoonists from giving the Yanks the lion's share of the credit. To be sure, some British, French and Italian cartoonists cheered on the contribution of American doughboys as well, and there are also American cartoons praising General Foch.

I can't tell who was responsible for the above cartoon attributed to the New Orleans Times-Picayune. W.K. Patrick was an editorial cartoonist for the paper during the summer of 1918, but the crosshatching pen-and-ink style of the work of his that I've seen does not match that of this charcoal artist.

"One Day's Bag" by Kenneth R. Chamberlain in Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, ca. July/August, 1918

Allied media were reporting victories in the air and at sea as well as on the ground. Victories in the air were largely the products of the English and French air forces. Their bombing raids into Germany targeted munitions factories, aerodromes, and transportation lines. At sea, the failure of the German u-boats to sink the ships carrying soldiers from America would prove a significant factor in Germany's ultimate defeat.

"But He Got Away" by Garrett Price in Great Lakes Bulletin, ca. August, 1918

My round-up of German cartoons a few weeks ago included some dismissive depictions of Native American soldiers, so it's only fair to counter them with some acknowledgement of Native Americans' contribution to the war from the American press.

"Civilizing the Savage" by Burt Thomas in Detroit News, ca. August, 1918

Native Americans fought in Canadian and American regiments with distinction and bravery, despite being denied citizenship, voting, and property rights at home. Choctaw fighters in World War I were the first "code talkers" to foil German eavesdropping by radioing in their native tongue. And unlike the segregated regiments of Black soldiers from the U.S., Native Americans fought alongside their European-American fellow doughboys. Like Black soldiers, however, they came home after the war to a thankless, even hostile, nation.

"Keep Your Eye on the Melting-Pot Warrior" by Harry J. Westerman in Ohio State Journal, ca. August, 1918

Harry Westerman's melting pot cartoon portrays an ideal of non-hyphenated Americanism enjoying increasing popularity during the war — here in a more charitable fashion than, say Sydney Joseph Greene's work. Hearing a variety of languages other than English spoken in the streets, in shops, and most certainly in churches had been the norm up to this point; but the suspicion that anyone speaking German must perforce be plotting against the Republic lingered after the war, extending to Italians, Danes, Poles, etc. etc.

The pro-war patriotic songs being churned out by Tin Pan Alley included several tunes about how all our soldiers were indistinguishable from one another once they were given their uniforms and buzzcuts. But as for Cpl. Cohen and Pfc. Sing Hop, the brotherhood they experienced on the battlefield with their fellow recruits was probably buried in those foreign fields with the rest of the fallen.

"As the Tide of Battle Turns..." by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, July 25, 1918

Meanwhile, the Kaiser's government was finding new urgency in peace talks. All the European forces were weary of war; but the influx of fresh American soldiers, untried as many of them were, was not going to be balanced by any hundreds of thousands of new soldiers on the Central Powers' side.

"More German Strategy" by Paul Plaschke in Louisville Times,  ca. August, 1918

Thank goodness Paul Plaschke thought to label "Fritz" in this cartoon. I would have been terribly confused otherwise.

"When He Goes Home" by William Hanny in St. Joseph News-Press, ca. August, 1918

William Hanny's cartoon is typical of a slew of editorial cartoons imagining Kaiser Wilhelm dissembling about the war to a German hausfrau. As far as American media were concerned, any continued popular support for the war in Germany could only be the product of state-sponsored misinformation.

"Sh-h-h! Dond't Wake the Baby" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 4, 1918

Tune in again next week for some of that state-sponsored misinformation.

Life During Wartime

After two Saturdays in a row rummaging through my own cartoons, it must be time to turn the clock back a full century and see what the Committee on Public Information's Office of Cartoons was suggesting to American editorial cartoonists in the summer of 1918. Let's see which issues that would survive World War I were showing up in these wartime cartoons.

"An Efficiency Expert at Work" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, July 10, 1918

McCutcheon's printing is tiny no matter how much you embiggen these cartoons, so here's a summary. Mr. Efficiency Expert recommends putting convicts to work making equipment for bridges, insane asylum patients to work in the ship camouflage department, and schools vacated during the summer to use teaching English "to every citizen who can't speak it." Lastly, for "the distillers and brewers likely to be closed next Jan.," he suggests putting them to work making liquid flame for the Kaiser.

"All Highest Has the Influenza" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, July 11, 1918

The Spanish flu pandemic of 1918 killed anywhere from 50- to 100-million people worldwide between January 1918 and December 1920. Kaiser Wilhelm was not one of them, but I wanted to include these cartoons just to be able to mention what remains one of the deadliest natural disasters in modern history.

"Germany Suffers from the Grip" by John Cassel in New York Evening World, July 11, 1918

We don't know for sure where the pandemic started; various theories have pointed to Austria, northern China, and Haskell County, Kansas — but probably not Spain. (In Spain, the disease was nicknamed "el soldado de Nápoles.")  What is certain is that the wartime confluence and dispersal of soldiers and sailors is responsible for spreading the contagion to every continent and some of the remotest locations on Earth.

"Not Fatal" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 12, 1918

In a typical epidemic, the sickest patients stay home and don't spread the disease much farther than their own family; but in this instance, soldiers with the worst cases of the flu would be sent from the front in crowded trains to equally crowded field hospitals, facilitating widespread dispersal of the most virulent strains.

Moving on to lighter subjects:

"Snapshots" by Maurice Ketten (né Prosper Fiorini), in New York Evening World, ca. July 15, 1918

The characters in Ketten's slice of life cartoon regularly confronted the shortages and cultural changes brought about by the war. In this July cartoon, he poked fun at the price of shoe leather, women taking over jobs traditionally performed by men, and the peculiar if short-lived attempt to popularize what were called "cloth-saving suits" for men. This last measure was necessitated by shortages of wool; Germany dealt with the problem with the invention of paper-based fabrics. After the war, American and Britain would (pardon the expression) follow suit.

"Fall Styles, 1918" by Harry J. Tuthill in St. Louis Star, ca. June, 1918

Sending so many young men (and not-so-young men; the draft now included men in their 40's) off to the trenches, ships and airfields abroad meant that women were needed to take their place in the labor market. Harry Tuthill didn't foresee Rosie the Riveter just yet, but turning urban housewives into household breadwinners completely undercut one of the last remaining arguments against extending women the vote.

"The False Patriot" by ? (Al Zere? Eugene "Zim" Zimmerman?), ca. July 8, 1918

I recently heard an interview with the author of a new book about Herbert Hoover; the author believes that Hoover got a raw deal from other historians because he is judged solely for his response to the Great Depression. Hoover isn't mentioned in these particular July cartoons, but his name was intimately associated with wartime rationing and belt tightening measures. In a way, this must have set him up for the popular resentment when that austerity returned under Hoover eleven years later in peace time.

"Fight Behind the Lines" by John Cassel in New York World, June 24, 1918

Meanwhile, back in 1918, the Office of Cartoons surely recommended combating any discontent such as illustrated in "The False Patriot" (if I find the name of that cartoonist, I'll correct it here) with cartoons illustrating the reported bread shortages among the Central Powers. The Entente press played up accounts of demonstrations protesting food shortages, especially in Austria.

"Felix Fake May Be an Edison Yet" by C.F. Naughton in Duluth Evening Herald, June 12, 1918

Americans aren't much for hardship, but we'll put up with a lot as long as some enemy has it worse.

Front page notice in Duluth Evening Herald, July 13, 1918

But, oh, no! Not the free promotional copy of my newspaper!

Fathers' Day 1918

It's Father's Eve, so Sireback Saturday brings you a selection of 100-year-old comic strips about Father. The dialogue is tiny, in part because comic strips were given much more space in the newspaper than they are today, so you'll have to beclickify these samples to embiggen them enough for eulegibilitizationness.

It seems only natural that we should start with George McManus's long-running strip, Bringing Up Father.

"Bringing Up Father" by George McManus, June 19, 1918

What strikes us immediately is that the typical father in 1918 was pathetically henpecked, subject to the violent mood swings of his mate, just because he was an idiot who blurted out any thought that happened to cross his mind. If anybody had heard of Asperger's Syndrome at the time, perhaps Jiggs could have gotten the treatment he so sorely deserved, rather than having to escape his home on the zip line installed expressly for that purpose.

Everyone had them in those days. I've seen the photos.

"Poor Mr. W." by Gene Carr, June 16, 1918

Gene Carr patterned his Poor Mr. W. (one of several short-lived cartoons by Carr) after Bringing Up Father, but molded its title character into a civic-minded, educated gentleman who was willing to admit his own mistakes in support of the War Effort as seen in this Fathers' Day episode. Note too the forward-looking attitude toward women in the workplace!

"When a Man's Married" by William Gordon "Jack" Farr for US Feature Service, June 15, 1918

The father in Jack Farr's "When a Man's Married" illustrates how getting married drives a man to drink. Sure it may start with an innocently medicinal daily teaspoon of whiskey, but one teaspoon soon becomes a tablespoon, and before you know it, the doctor has you chugging an entire barrel of the stuff.

You may think Mr. Farr's attitudes toward medicinal alcohol quaint. 100 years hence, your great-great-grandchildren will probably think the same about medicinal marijuana.

One thing that has been missing in our Fathers' Day strips so far has been anyone fathered by the title characters. Therefore, let us check in on Dad and the kids.

"'S'Matter, Pop" by Charles M. Payne for Bell Syndicate, June 16, 1918

The father in Mr. Payne's long-running strip has obviously been reading too many books touting the supposed benefits of permissive parenting. By not sternly correcting his son's anastic delusions, the son is put at risk of drowning, or worse. Pop could use a shave, too. I'll bet he's one of them bolsheviki.

"Doings of the Duffs" by Walter Allman for Scripps Syndicate, June 21, 1918

Walter Allman's Doings of the Duffs, I guess, confirms my suspicion that fathers in the Nineteen-teens had not mastered the element of water yet. Best leave them on dry land.

"Polly and Her Pals" by Cliff Sterrett for Hearst Newspapers, June 15, 1918

Sam Perkins' daughter Polly has joined the local police department in the above installment, further entrenching the proto-feminazi domination of American incels in the 20th Century. Fortunately for Pa, there is still a rump force of traditional male patriarchy meeting clandestinely under the cover of cigar smoke around a poker table. The resistance continues.

To the father-child relationship, this next cartoon by Charles H. Wellington adds the dimension of the relationship between father-in-law and son-in-law (a relationship that apparently fascinated him, because he drew strips with three other variations on this title between 1911 and 1942). This Sunday cartoon takes up an entire broadsheet page, which is not only bigger than the phone you're trying to read this on, it's bigger than any newspaper on the newsstand today. In an attempt to make it somewhat legible, I've broken it up into three pieces.

"That Son-In-Law of Pa's" by Charles H. Wellington for Newspaper Feature Service, June 16, 1918

See what Mr. Wellington did there? He very cleverly stepped on his own gag in the topper of the cartoon in case you got tired of reading it and missed the very helpful tip for spotting German spies in the final panel. Sure, it spoiled the joke, but the country was at war, dammit. No mere joke was more important than saving the country from the Boche!

"Doings of the Duffs" by Walter Allman for Scripps Syndicate, June 13, 1918

Returning to Tom Duff: I'll bet he pulled this same trick when he was called up to the draft board, too. (The U.S. raised the draft age was to 49 in June of 1918 as these cartoons were published.)

Now, I've read several episodes of Doings of the Duffs, and I'm not at all sure what Olivia's relationship to Tom and Helen Duff is. She lives in their house and sees gentlemen callers there; but she calls Mr. and Mrs. Duff by their first names, so she doesn't seem to be their daughter or daughter-in-law. She's not their maid (that's Daisy, an African-American woman). If she were Tom or Helen's sister, one would think Tom would be less rude to her beaux in the interest of getting her out of the house.

If she isn't a Duff, is she then, the prototypical DUFF?