Then, Tomorrow Was Another Day

Today's Graphical History Tour checks out the international scene in March of 1926, which means that we won't be seeing much from U.S. cartoonists. The Yanks weren't particularly interested in the outside world just then, although that doesn't mean that there was nothing going on. 

"Was Haben Wir von dem Grösser Mannern" by Werner Hahmann in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 7, 1926

For one thing, world leaders were still trying to hammer out arms reduction agreements, in accoradance with the Treaty of Versailles that ended World War I. Werner Hahmann here anticipated how the leaders of Italy, France, the U.S., Great Britain, U.S.S.R., and Germany would approach the summit (to use a term that came into use much later) about to get underway.

You should be familiar with Benito Mussolini and Calvin Coolidge, but Americans may not be familiar with the rest of these faces. Aristide Briand was Prime Minister of France off and on from 1909 to 1929; nobody warmed that seat for very long at a time in the 1920's. Austen Chamberlain was British Foreign Secretary, and Nobel Peace Prize laureate with Briand and Germany's Gustav Stresemann for negotiating the Locarno Treaty settling Germany's western border.

Georgy Chicherin was the U.S.S.R. People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs, and I have no clue what Hahmann's reference to whistling was about. Chicherin, having been arrested in England for antiwar activity when Russia's October Revolution took place, promoted a pro-German, anti-British foreign policy; so I imagine that in spite of Kladderadatsch's opposition to communism, Hahmann regarded Chicherin as a relatively benign presence.

Hans Luther was Chancellor of Germany from January, 1925 to May, 1926. Kladderadatsch's cartoonists must not have found him particularly inspiring, since time and time again, all they could come up with for cartoons about him was to have him quote Martin Luther's famous "Here I stand" statement.

"That's a Good Idee" by Wm. A. Rogers in Washington [DC] Post, March 24, 1926

I'm including one U.S. cartoonist here, isolationist W.A. Rogers, depicting U.S. participation in disarmament talks as something eagerly sought by European powers. His Uncle Sam would consider coming along strictly as a favor. Why, his "national defense" was merely a toy!

"You Can't Always Tell by the Picture on the Packet" by Sidney Strube in London Daily Express, ca. Mar. 21, 1926

London cartoonist Sidney Strube drew Uncle Sam kibitzing over the fence at Europe, whose packet of Locarno lily seeds has produced some strange flowers. "Say! Bo! That's funny stuff you are growing!"

"Der Gute Bruder aus dem Westen" by Werner Hahmann in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 7, 1926

U.S. interest in the disarmament conference was disingenuous, in Hahmann's view. In this cartoon, Uncle Same brings to the table "Huge strengthening of the American air fleet" and "new travel loans for America's navy."

"Deutschland im Võlkerbund" by Ernst Schilling in Simplicissimus, Stuttgart, March 1, 1926

Over at Simplicissimus, Ernst Schilling saw plenty of disingenuousness to go around among the disarmament negotiators. I don't believe any of the characters on the right side of the cartoon are caricatures of actual delegates (with the possible exception of the very British looking chap in the foreground), but I think that the presumably German man on the left looking askance at the rest must be.

"Umtriebe" by Arthur Krüger in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 7, 1926

The fellow in the foreground of Kruger's cartoon represented Poland, as identified by the czapka on his head. The cap became a symbol of Polish independence after the war, and was adopted as cartooning shorthand for that country, as Michel and Marianne were for Germany and France.

At issue here was whether to admit Germany into the League of Nations (Völkerbund in German), which Poland and France opposed.

"Der Taufbeken in Genf" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 7, 1926

The feeling was mutual: Arthur Johnson was among Germans who were also highly skeptical of joining the League, especially if despised Poland were a member as well.

"Auf in den Völkerbund" by Wilhelm Schulz in Simplicissimus, Stuttgart, March 15, 1926

Wilhelm Schulz's cartoon depicts Mussolini and Poland (ach du lieber! a drunkard, too!) conspiring to sabotage Germany's seat at the League of Nations table.

"Polen Beansprucht einen Festen Sitz im Völkerbund" by Richter in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 21, 1926

The Polish position, rather, was that if Germany were to have a permanent seat in the League, so should Poland.

"Versuchtes, aber Mißglücktes Falschspiel in Genf" by Oskar Garvens in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 21, 1926

Poland had the support of both Great Britain (you'll notice that Chamberlain's King of Spades is wearing a czapka) and France, with treaties obliging both to come to its aid if attacked.  

"Mißglücktes Experiment" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, March 28, 1926

Poland was not the only country lobbying for a permanent League of Nations Seat. So were Brazil and Spain, the former of which was adamantly opposed to admitting Germany, earning it an especially grotesque characterization from Artie Johnson in this cover cartoon.

"Vorverkauf an der Kaffe in Genf" by Oskar Garvens in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 28, 1926

Oskar Garvens added China (and "War") to the waiting list in his cartoon. 

Cartoonists must have had little upon which to draw Brazilian stereotypes, in case the fourth fellow in line appears Mexican to you. Mexico repeatedly refused invitations to join the League of Nations until 1931.

"She Will Have to Get a New Canary Now" by Arthur Racey in Montreal Star, March 19, 1926

The Brazilian government would be gravely disappointed that Germany was admitted to the League and Brazil was not granted a permanent seat. Brazil quit the League later that year.

In A.G. Racey's cartoon, "European Peace" holds an empty birdcage bereft of its former occupant, "the Locarno Concord Canary." The Locarno Concord had been hailed as a great success at its December 1, 1925 signing by the great powers of western Europe (see the Graphic History Tour post here). I think that by asking "Whose cat are you, anyway?", Racey was taking into account that Brazil was not a party to the Locarno Concord.

"Endresultat" by Werner Hahmann in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, March 28, 1926

Agreeing with Racey's pessimism, Hahmann's cartoon quotes from the final stanzas of "Des Sängers Fluch" (The Singer's Curse) by Ludwig Uhland, set to music by Robert Schumann.

In the poem, a pair of minstrels entertain a cruel king and his court, pleasing the queen but enraging the king, who kills the younger of the minstrels. The older minstrel levels a curse at the king which comes true: in the end, the king's once beautiful castle lies in ruins but for one lone, crumbling column, its king forgotten.

Everyone was not ready to write off the Locarno Treaties as a failure just yet, but they ultimately did prove inadequate to ensuring a lasting peace in Europe.

The treaties delineated Germany's western border, ceding Alsace-Lorraine to France, but did not settle disputed territories on Germany's eastern border with Poland. There were Polish enclaves on the west side of the Oder-Neisse line and Germans living on the east side of the rivers. Danzig/Gdansk was a further bone of contention: as part of Poland, it separated East Prussia from the rest of Germany; without it, Poland would be landlocked.

"Powerful Brazil" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, March, 1926

But sure, you can just blame Brazil if you'd rather.

Or the bossa nova.

A Breezy Bequest

For this week's Graphical History Tour, let's settle into the gallery at the Scopes "Monkey" Trial in Dayton, Tennessee — starring Clarence Darrow as Spencer Tracy, Fredric March as William Jennings Bryan, and John T. Scopes as OG Darren Stephens.

"Closed Book in Tennessee" by Edmund Duffy in Baltimore Sun, June 19, 1925

The story thus far: Tennessee State Representative John W. Butler, head of the World Christian Fundamentals Association, pushed eponymous legislation through to Governor Austin Peay signing it into law, banning the teaching of evolutionary science in Tennessee public schools. A Dayton coal  and iron company executive, George Rappleyea, thought it would be good publicity for his town to challenge the Butler Act in court. 

Rappleyea found support from Dayton Superintendent of Schools Walter White (as Bryan Cranston) and attorney Sue K. Hicks (as Johnny Cash), and the three men recruited 24-year-old schoolteacher John Scopes to be the face of the case.

Making a Monkey of Itself" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, ca. June 14, 1925

Billy Ireland crammed a lot of text into the bulletins posted in this cartoon; since it may be difficult to read on your device, here is some of it:

During the trial of Professor Scopes of Dayton, accused of teaching the science of evolution in the public schools of Tennessee, electrical loud speakers will be placed in the courthouse windows for the benefit of the vast crowds.

It is proposed that the trial be transferred from the courthouse to a large ampitheater within the race track at the fair grounds.

Dayton resents the efforts of Chattanooga to move the trial to that city — Datyon wants all the ADVERTISING for itself. ...

Bids for hot dog privileges now open. Merry-go-round rights for a reasonable figure. Bids for street fair rights now in order.

"Would They Destroy Each Other" by J.P. Alley in Memphis Commercial Appeal, June 6, 1925

The original prosecuting and defense attorneys, District Attorney Tom Stewart and law school professor John Neal respectively, were overshadowed by the celebrities brought in by both sides to argue the case: three-time Democratic presidential nominee and former Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan for the State, and criminal defense lawyer Clarence Darrow for Scopes. 

"The Descent of Man" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 5, 1915

Bryan had been outspoken against evolutionary theory as far back as 1909, lecturing, publishing Christian-themed books, and preaching on his nationally syndicated radio program. Intellectuals espousing evolutionary theory, he charged, sought to invalidate "every moral standard that the Bible gives us." Tennessee was one of five states, all in the South, that responded to his call to ban teaching of evolution in public schools.

"Odd Shadows" by Pedro Llanuza in Chicago Herald & Examiner (?) ca. June 26, 1925

Bryan took a lot of ribbing from cartoonists of all stripes.

"All He Can See In It" by Winsor McCay, ca. June 19, 1925

Every Winsor McCay cartoon is a tour de force; here he has drawn in a single cartoon enough monkeys that, given typewriters, they might very well have been able to produce the collected works of Shakespeare.

"I See By the Jungle Press" by Thomas E. Powers for International News Service, before June 19, 1925

The signature is missing from this cartoon, but my money is on it being the work of T.E. Powers. The editors of the newspaper in which I found the cartoon may have omitted a bottom panel of tangentially related material; Powers often provided multiple gags per cartoon.

I've tried looking for the context of "He's not with me," but the phrase is proving too commonplace. It may have been something William Jennings Bryan had said in arguing that he didn't think teachers should be jailed, fined, or fired for teaching evolution; it's not entirely clear what he thought the penalty should be. Or perhaps he was simply forswearing the company of our prehistoric ancestors.

"A Leadership Too Unattractive to Be Dangerous" by J.P. Alley in Memphis Commercial Appeal, June 28, 1925

In fairness to Mr. Bryan, I have to include the one June, 1925 cartoon I've come across critical of Clarence Darrow. Tennessean J.P. Alley here depicted a scowling, "agnostic" Darrow disappointed by "youth" not following him and his black banner of "despair" down into the dark abyss of whatever that was the dark abyss of.

Scopes publicly identified himself as agnostic, but I am not aware that Clarence Darrow had publicly done so before the trial.

"Somabodee Geeva Da Monk a Hot Cent" by Homer Stinson in Dayton Daily News, June 28, 1925

Homer Stinson's cartoon must refer to a cruel trick people apparently played on organ grinders' monkeys. While the organ grinder (stereotypically an Italian immigrant, as depicted in the cartoon's caption) played the music, his pet monkey would accept coins from the audience. How giving the monkey a red-hot penny was accomplished I do not know, and I hope for the sake of any organ grinder monkeys employed these days that the process has been lost to history. 

"Getting Reverse English" by Jesse Cargill for King Features Syndicate, ca. June 30, 1925

The grand jury heard arguments in June; the trial date was set for July 10. In the meantime, Americans were free to debate the merits of faith and science among themselves.

"Disbelievers in the Evolution Theory" by Leslie Rogers in Chicago Defender, June 20, 1925

Some cartoonists used the Scopes Trial to comment on other serious issues of the time. Leslie Rogers, cartooning for Chicago's Black newspaper, turned on its head the Biblical literalists' revulsion at the idea of being descended from apes: his monkeys are horrified by the prospect of having American lynch mobs among their relatives.

"No Wonder the Monkeys Are Worried" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., ca. June 27, 1925

White cartoonist Dorman H. Smith overlooked lynch mobs to draw his monkeys worried by a myriad of other human crimes, from animal cruelty to child labor to domestic violence to reckless driving — even, strangely, the length of women's skirts and the volume of balloon pants.

"Has Evolution Succeeded" by Douglas Rodger in San Francisco Bulletin, June 19, 1925

Leaving fashion crimes aside, Douglas Rodger's monkeys were more amused than alarmed by their human descendants. The French tricoleur and cannon must be a reference to France's military coming to Spain's aid in fighting a rebellion in Morocco. (We'll return to that topic on a later date.)

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Sidebar: It has little to do with the Scopes Monkey Trial, but since I brought it up, the connection between lawyer Sue Kerr Hicks and Johnny Cash is no coincidence. 

Hicks was named for his mother, who died in childbirth. Years after the events of today's post, Hicks, by then a Tennessee state circuit court judge, explained how he came by his unusual name at a conference that happened to be attended by song writer Shel Silverstein.

Silverstein took considerable liberties with Sue K. Hicks's life story in writing the song made famous by Johnny Cash. Hicks's father didn't name him as a joke, leave his family, or cut off a chunk of his son's ear in a barroom fight.

Ya gotta admit, though: it was only right and salutary that a boy named Sue should eventually pursue a career in law.

To Talk of Many Things

"News Note..." by Clifford Berryman in Washington (DC) Evening Star, March 27, 1922

Today's graphical history tour pays homage to the human interest stories and other distractions from the Truly Great Issues Of The Day.

Even cartoonists who aspire to become the Nast or Daumier of their day will, from time to time, settle for the inspiration provided by such trivia as the painting of a tree in Cleveland, Ohio.

"You Dirty Boy" by Wm. C. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, March, 1922

Since we have been flooded as of late by cartoons inspired by a certain movie star slapping that comedian, here's a Hollywood cartoon about Will Hays, who resigned as Warren Harding's Postmaster General (a cabinet position in those days) to become the first chairman of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America. The Presbyterian deacon would institute the infamous "Hays Code" in reaction to clergy complaints about hedonism and sin in the movies, and such scandals as the rape and murder trial of comic actor Fatty Arbuckle.

"Grandpa Hears a Strange Language..." by Leo Bushnell for Central Press Assn., March, 1922

The exploding popularity of radio didn't escape the attention of cartoonists — or of the federal government, which wasn't about to let the airwaves become the den of iniquity it believed movies had become. Especially because the kids those days could and did build their own radio sets.

"Merrell Shudders Every Time He Thinks of It" by Dorman Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., by March 29, 1922

Dorman Smith's crystal ball didn't quite get the future of radio right, but he did sort of foresee the boombox and the cell phone.

"Spring Fiction" by Magnus Kettner for Western Newspaper Union, by March 31, 1922

But since the iPhone was still 82 years in the future, Americans ignoring each other at the dinner table had to make do with newspapers and magazines.

"Keen Disappointment" by Dorman Smith for NEA, by March 28, 1922

'Twas spring, and a young man's thoughts turned lightly to thoughts of Prohibition. And trying to find some new joke to make about it three years on.

"When East Meets West" by Burt Thomas in Detroit News, by March 20, 1922

Henry Payne's predecessor at the Detroit News has left us this car toon, and an object lesson in cartoon structure. Whereas the punch line in Dorman Smith's maple syrup cartoon is so large that it attracts the reader's eye well before the lead-up to it does, the text in Burt Thomas's cartoon is easily overlooked.

Meanwhile, there was still no shortage of serious issues for cartoonists to tackle. Coal miners went on strike on April 1 after negotiations with the mine owners stalled. Since most American homes were heated by coal, a lot of cartoons expressed the obvious opinion that John Q. Public would be adversely affected.

"The Initial Shock Won't Hurt Him..." by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, by March 30, 1922

Any cartoonists inclined to depict the United Mine Workers as unreasonable socialists might have had second thoughts because seventeen miners working for the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company were killed in an explosion on March 24.

"Anxiety at the Shaft" by Callaghan (?) in Oklahoma Leader, March 27, 1922*

I have not yet uncovered any information about the Callaghan who drew the above cartoon, save that he produced a number of pro-labor cartoons in this period. I found the cartoon in the Oklahoma Leader, a solidly pro-labor newspaper published in Oklahoma City from 1918 to 1928; the Leader often credited syndicated cartoons to their source, but I have so far not found it including a byline with any of the Callaghan cartoons it ran. It could be that, like John Baer drawing for the labor publication of train workers, Callaghan drew for a similar newspaper for a miners' union.

"Watchful Waiting" by Harold M. Talburt for Scripps-Howard News Service, by March 31, 1922

What interests me about this Harold Talburt cartoon is that I had been accustomed to his cartoons drawn with grease pencil and charcoal, whereas this early work is in pen and ink. 1922 is the year that Talburt began working for Scripps-Howard; he would be their chief editorial cartoonist until he retired in 1963, being awarded the editorial cartooning Pulitzer along the way in 1933.

"The Last of the Barons" by Winsor McCay for Star Company, April, 1922

Anyway, we'll come back to this strike on future Saturdays. The miners' strike was to last for several months, and the prediction by Talburt's cartoon officer Harding, "Wait'll they begin to shoot," would come true.

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* In Minnesota Daily Star, March 20, 1922. See D.D. Degg's comment below.

There Will Almost Be an Ireland

Now that Barbados has thrown off the shackles of British rule, by a happy coincidence, it happens to be time to mark the centennial of the Irish Free State.

Here's what American editorial cartoonists had to say about it.

"For Ireland" by Clifford Berryman in Washington (DC) Evening Star, December 7, 1921

The Anglo-Irish Agreement of December 6, 1921 came just as talks to end the three-year-long Irish War of Independence appeared to be on the brink of breaking down, imperiling a truce that had been in effect since July.

"The Balky Horse" by Wm. C. Morris for George Matthews Adams Service, Nov./Dec., 1921

The Irish rebellion was only one of several signs that, while it might have been true that "the sun never sets on the British Empire," dark clouds were gathering to block it out here and there.

"The British Dilemma" by Billy Ireland in Columbus (OH) Dispatch, Nov./Dec., 1921

(Billy Ireland here includes a common reference to the two cats of Kilkenny.)

The Anglo-Irish treaty provided for an "Irish Free State" (Saorstát Éireann), not as a completely independent country, but as with dominion status. It would have its own legislature while remaining within the British Empire and swearing allegiance, albeit somewhat conditional, to the British crown.

"It's Only Taken About 750 Years..." by J.N. "Ding" Darling in  New York Tribune, December 8, 1921

The news was received with enthusiastic relief by nearly all cartoonists on this side of the pond as a sign that seven and a half centuries of conflict had finally come to an end. Full stop.

"The Journey's End" by John Cassel in New York Evening World, December 7, 1921

But the divvil, as they say, was in the details.

"'Big Brother' John" by Elmer Bushnell for Central Press Assn., by Dec. 10, 1921

The six counties of majority-Protestant Ulster (Northern Ireland) had already set up a Daíl and Seanad separate from those of the isle's 26 majority-Catholic counties back in July, and the treaty provided Ulster the opportunity to opt out of the Irish Free State. It took that opportunity in December, 1922.

"Is the Ancient Feud Really Settled At Last" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, Dec. 1921

A significant faction of the Irish Republican Army, moreover, and its political wing, Sinn Fein, rejected the Irish Free State in favor of a unified Ireland, completely independent of the British Empire.

John McCutcheon's is the earliest American cartoon I've found that suggested any misgivings about the Anglo-Irish Treaty's long-term prospects.

"Now, Old Top, We May Lie Down Together" by Wm. H. Walker in Life magazine, Dec. 29, 1921

William Walker here runs a close second.

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"Confidence Rather One-Sided" by Albert T. Reid in New York Evening Mail, December, 1921

Incidentally, it's not as if the U.S. didn't have its own off-shore territories clamoring for independence, too.

Eire Apparent

"If" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch  July, 1921

I get to start this week's history tour off with a cartoon about Ireland by Ireland — Billy Ireland, that is.

"The Twelfth" celebrations in Northern Ireland in the early part of July feature twelve days of parades and bonfires in celebration of the anniversary of Protestant King William of Orange's victory over Catholic King James II on July 12, 1691 (Julian calendar). For centuries, these festivities deliberately provoked Irish Catholics, marching through their neighborhoods and burning Irish flags.

"Too Hot" by Rollin Kirby in New York Evening World, July 22, 1921

So it may have been a happy coincidence that British forces and the Irish Republican Army declared a truce in the two-year-old Irish War of Independence on July 11, 1921.

"The Next Stop" by Roy H. James in St. Louis Star, July, 1921

American newspaper reports told of the news being greeted with celebrations and parades, although I have to wonder how many of those celebrations had more to do with "The Twelfth" than the announcement of the truce.

Untitled, by Bill Satterfield for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., by July 11, 1921

American cartoonists certainly received the news with enthusiasm...

Untitled, by Wm. C. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, July, 1921

... even if they didn't quite agree upon who was inviting whom to the peace table.

"They'll Both Enjoy a Refreshing Plunge..." by Leo Bushnell for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., by July 13, 1921

Declaring a truce was one thing. Agreeing to a peace settlement was another thing entirely. The proposal from British Prime Minister David Lloyd George offered only limited autonomy to Ireland within the British Empire, analogous to England's dominion over Canada at the time. Irish Republic President Eamonn de Valera demanded complete independence for a united Ireland. Ulster Premier Sir James Craig insisted Northern Ireland would not be governed by Dublin.

"Getting Together to Drive the Snakes Out" by Wm. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, July, 1921

Nor did hostilities stop completely. Sinn Fein founder Arthur Griffith was convinced that the violence alone had no chance of achieving victory over the British army, but irregulars in the IRA continued to recruit fighters and to stage guerilla attacks against royalist targets. Peace negotiations, mediated by South African Premier Jan Smuts, kept plugging away nevertheless.

"Bearding the Lion in His Den" by Leo Bushnell for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., by July 20, 1921

Bushnell's second cartoon here hangs on a relatively obscure story from the Old Testament; cartoonists could get away with a greater store of biblical references a century ago than we can today.

"Getting Together..." by J.N. "Ding" Darling in New York Tribune, July 25, 1921

Whereas virtually everybody can understand the challenge of getting a bulldog and a cat into the same basket.