Baseball, Sunday Drivers, and Murderous Medicis

Gosh, it's been a fortnight and a half since we revisited World War I, so Scattershot Saturday takes a quick look around at how the War That Didn't Quite End All Wars was going in September, 1918.

"We're Ready, Uncle Sam" by Berrns (?) in Milwaukee Journal, September 11, 1918

I wanted to start with this cartoon only because the Milwaukee Journal didn't employ an editorial cartoonist in those days. I don't know whether this front page cartoon was drawn by someone in the ad department at the Journal or by someone in D.C. cranking out one of these for each of the 48 states.

Whichever it was, the directive had clearly gone out that cartoonists needed to publicize that all men age 18 to 45 were now required to register for the draft. "18 to 45" appeared on scores of editorial cartoons all across the nation at once, with no need to spell out the significance of those numbers.

"Batter Up!" by J.W. McGurk in Philadelphia Journal, September, 1918

The draft, and a Selective Service “Work or Fight” order, requiring all able-bodied men to either serve in the military or work in a “necessary” civilian occupation, pushed the 1918 World Series of baseball up to September 5 through 11. The Boston Red Sox defeated the Chicago Cubs four games to two in the series, which suffered from a lack of popular interest. Players even threatened to go on strike over the poor attendance, which could possibly have been because so many of their fans were busy in the trenches overseas.

In a move to tap into popular support for the war effort, a military band was featured during the seventh inning stretch of game one in what is reputed to be the first playing of "Star Spangled Banner" — not yet our national anthem — at a sporting event.

(The dialogue in these cartoons is difficult to read even with click-to-embiggen technology; McGurk's baseball player is saying, “Here's where the doggone game goes on ice!”)

"The Gasoline Slacker..." by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, ca. September, 1918

Low attendance at Comiskey and Fenway may also have had something to do with the government urging Americans to "save gas for General Pershing" by curtailing unnecessary automobile travel. A particular target was Sunday driving, when one was presumed to have no particular reason to leave the house. And yes, Game Five of the World Series was played on a Sunday.

In Billy Ireland's cartoon, a carload of "gasoline slackers" whizzes past "those of us who would like the use of our cars the rest of the week." Uncle Sam, carrying his "supply of gasoline," grouses that "If they haven't any more sympathy for the welfare of our men in France than that, I will have to take over all of the gas."

"The Complete Alibi" by Harold T. Webster in New York Tribune, ca. September 10, 1918

For all the gasless Sundays, Meatless Mondays, Wheatless Wednesdays and so forth being promoted on the Home Front, the Entente forces at last had some good news to report from the Western Front. One month into the 100-Day Offensive, the allies were pushing the German army east from the Somme and the Marne.

Webster's Kaiser assures the German people that "Ve are trying to entice der enemy into Berlin und dey iss svallowing der bait mit sinker, line und hook! Alretty ve has fooldt dem into taking t'ousands und t'ousands of our men prisoner! It iss a glorious victory yet!!"

"Den Verdieste Seine Krone!" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 8, 1918

The erosion of Germany's Western Front could no longer be ignored even by German cartoonists, so Arthur Johnson was left to carp about the high price the Entente armies paid in human lives for their victories. The note atop this cartoon explains that "General Foch was handed the marshal's baton by Poincaré."

"A New Policeman on the Beat" by Bushnell for Central Press Association, ca. September, 1918

On the Eastern Front, American cartoonists displayed considerable overconfidence in reports of victories by Japanese, Czechoslovakian and Cossack fighters against the Bolsheviks in Siberia. The Czechoslovak People's Army of Komuch seized Kazan, Tartarstan from the Bolsheviks in August and captured the Imperial Russian gold reserve. Backed by the Czechoslovakians, anti-Bolshevik Russians established a rival government in Omsk, Siberia in September. It would last only two years.

"Reinfall" by Max Richter in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 8, 1918

Max Richter's cartoon errs in the opposite direction, predicting that Czechoslovakian hopes of independence from Austria-Hungary would be doomed by their partisans' adventures in the east. The text below explains that Czechoslovakians, lured by British promises of self-determination, happily entered the Siberian mousetrap, but predicted they would have difficulty getting out.

"Le Prime Vittorie dei Nippo-Americani in Siberia" by Glycetti (?) in Il 420, Florence, September 15, 1918

And then there's this Italian take on the Siberian situation.

To the modern reader, there's a whole lot of non sequitur in this cartoon, ostensibly about some military victory by American and Japanese troops in Russia. I have no explanation for the crying moon, Kaiser Wilhelm's ladder, the nail through the Russian bear, why Woodrow Wilson and the Japanese guy are barely onlookers, or why the Italian, Frenchman and British characters are standing on a cloud (unless they're dead, which would be kind of weird, but, well okay, let's go with that).

I can tell you that Lorenzino de' Medici was a Renaissance era Italian politician who befriended, debauched with, then assassinated his cousin Alessandro, the Duke of Florence. He then wrote a grandiloquent Apology claiming to have killed Alessandro in the interests of reestablishing a republic, fled to exile in Venice, and was eventually killed by agents of Emperor Charles V, Alessandro's father-in-law. Supposedly, the devil refused to admit Lorenzino into Hell for fear that he would usurp the devil's rule.

"La Corona di Polonia e Carletto" by Luccio in Il 420, Florence, September 8, 1918

So here's a cartoon about Austrian Emperor Charles I that is needs absolutely no explanation. Does it?

And finally, the Allies moved ahead with plans for the post-war world. President Wilson commissioned his diplomatic adviser, Edward "Colonel" House in September to draw up a constitution for the League of Nations. House proposed that "unethical" state behavior such as espionage would result in "blockading and closing the frontiers of that power to commerce or intercourse with any part of the world and to use any force that may be necessary."

"Vorberatungen für den zu Gründenden 'Völkerbund' der Entente" by Max Richter in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 15, 1918

From Baltics to Balkans

In honor of Donald Joffrey Trump's gobsmackable performance in Helsinki this week, I kick off Suomiback Saturday with an update on Finnish history one century ago this summer.

"Anticipation and Realization" by Ted Brown in Chicago Daily News, ca. July, 1918

Prior to Russia's February Revolution, Finland had been an autonomous Grand Duchy under the Romanov emperors, but technically not part of Russia. The overthrow of Nicholas II put Finland's status relative to St. Petersburg in dispute. The Finnish parliament voted to make itself the nation's chief governing body, and after the October Revolution, declared independence on December 6, 1917.

"Orders from the Boss" by Gibbs in Baltimore Sun, ca. July, 1918

Conflict between the government's majority conservatives (Whites) and minority social democrats (Reds) flared into civil war. With military support from Germany, the Whites prevailed, booted the Reds from parliament, and in October of 1918 elected Kaiser Wilhelm's brother-in-law Prince Frederick Charles of Hesse as king. But by then, World War I was finally drawing to a close, and Frederick never actually assumed the Finnish throne.

"The Master's Voice in Finland" by David Wilson in The Passing Show, London, ca. June, 1918

Also officially breaking away from Russia were the Baltic states, occupied by Germany since 1915. Under the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, Russia renounced its claims on the Baltic nations and agreed that they would be in Germany's sphere of influence. Latvia and Estonia declared themselves The United Baltic Duchy under a German duke; and in July of 1918, the State Council of Lithuania elected another German duke, Duke Wilhelm of Urach, as their King Mindaugas II. 

"Little Lithuania Will Now Be Led to Slaughter" by Blackman in Birmingham (Alabama) Age-Herald, ca. June, 1918

Germany, however, preferred other candidates with closer ties to the Kaiser. German occupiers censored the Lithuanian press from publishing anything about the new king, and actually shut down the Council's official newspaper for refusing to print an article denouncing King Mindaugas.

"The Liberator" by Eddie Eksergian in St. Louis Globe-Democrat, ca. June, 1918.

Despite taking a crash course in Lithuanian language and history, Duke Wilhelm ended up never setting foot in Lithuania, either.

"Family Troubles" by C.A. Bronstrup in San Francisco Chronicle, ca. June, 1918

Meanwhile, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which had begun World War I in the first place, was beginning to unravel. With its military suffering reverses on the Italian front, the empire was confronted by declarations of independence by its southern Slav and Czech subjects, compounded by labor and pacifist strikes at home.

"Czech the Giant Killer" by W.A. Rogers in New York Herald, ca. July, 1918

Before the Russian revolutions, Czech and Slovak deserters from the Austrian army had fled to Russia rather than fight against their slavic kin. Their numbers boosted by Czech prisoners of war captured by the Russians, the Kerensky government gave them permission to fight against Austria. The Bolsheviks initially promised them passage through Siberia to Vladivostok and thence to France — only to insist that they surrender their weapons, since facilitating the Czechs' fight against the Central Powers would be a clear violation of Brest-Litovsk.

"Das Banner der Tschecho-slowakischen Legion" by M. Richter in Ulk, Berlin, July 19, 1918

But a Cossack government in Siberia headed by M. Horvath was friendly to the Czech-Slovaks. Joining together to fight the Bolsheviks, they secured much of the Trans-Siberian Railway by mid-July, and declared the city of Vladivostok to be an Allied protectorate. They conquered Yekaterinburg as well, but too late to save deposed Tsar Nicholas II and his household.

"The Salvation Army" by John F. Knott in Dallas News, ca. July, 1918

The above cartoonist, John F. Knott, was born in Plzeň, Austria-Hungary (now Czech Republic), emigrating to Iowa with his widowed mother in 1883 when he was 5 years old. His sympathy for his fellow Czechs is therefore quite understandable, and probably shared by many Bohemian-Americans.

"When Thieves Fall Out" by A.G. Racey in Montreal Star, July, 1918

And we conclude our tour in the Balkans. Greek forces with the support of France captured Skra from the Bulgarian army in May of 1918, prompting the resignation of Bulgaria's prime minister. A new government began secret negotiations for a separate peace,. Great Britain rejected any continued control by Bulgaria over Macedonia, promising the territory to Greece and Serbia. Turkey had fought for possession of the same territory in the Balkan Wars of the early half of the decade, but no longer had any serious prospect of extending its European territory past Eastern Thrace.