I Could Have Danced All Night

100 years ago this week, the 1920's marathon dance craze provided inspiration for several of our best cartoonists, and a break from this here blog's preoccupation of late with gun violence.

"Breaking the Endurance Dancing Record" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, April 19, 1923

On Sunday, April 15, 1923, Magdeline Williams of Houston, Texas, gained national fame by dancing for 65.5 hours in a dance marathon, blowing past the previous record of 52 hours and 17 minutes, in a contest won by Samuel Glasser and Myrtle Smith of Baltimore, Maryland, the night before. (There were seven dancers still on the dance floor when theater owner Charles Whitehurst abruptly shut the Baltimore event down at 1:00 a.m. Sunday morning.)

21 couples had started the Houston dance marathon on Thursday evening. As reported by the Houston Post:

Pretty Miss Magdelina Williams, winner in a recent Valentino beauty contest, danced steadily through two days and three nights and the greater part of the third day, while couple after couple dropped out around her. To the very last, there was very little evidence of exhaustion about her, and for a swan song, she staged as lively a one-step as she did on the first night.

"She Used to Belong to Our Dancing Club" by J.N. "Ding" Darling in Des Moines Register, April 18, 1923

The last man on the dance floor, Louis Kessler, was ruled off the floor at 2:27 p.m. Sunday when judges declared that he was unable to keep time with the music. Magdalene Williams vowed to continue dancing with the goal of making it to 72 hours, but objections by the dance hall owners and a note from her parents convinced her to bow out at 3:08.

"Having an Endurance Test of His Own" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., ca. April 23, 1923

Houston and Baltimore were only two of several cities where marathoners were testing the limits of the Lindy and the Charleston. That New York would be on the list is only to be expected; Cleveland, being the home base of Dorman Smith and the NEA, naturally rates a mention. Apparently the craze extended to England and Australia as well (although, judging from Sidney Strube's cartoon below, the marathon in London was mere kid stuff next to those in Baltimore and Houston).

When I first saw Dorman Smith's cartoon, I misunderstood it to be about some whirlwind honeymoon planned by the very-soon-to-wed Albert, Duke of York. It's not. Turns out, the future George VI never did get around to taking in the romantic sights of Cleveland, Ohio.

"Our Marathon Entry" by Daniel Fitzpatrick in St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 18, 1923

To some, the dance marathon fad was a source of befuddled amusement. Daniel Fitzpatrick's cartoon brings together two characters from the Post-Dispatch's comics page: Bud Fisher's Augustus Mutt and Fontaine Fox's "The Powerful Katrinka." (If you're wondering who they are, I refer you back to my post here on Tuesday.)

What would Mrs. Mutt say?

"Tripping the Light Fantastic" by John Cassel in New York Evening World by April 23, 1923

Needless to say, some older folks were not so amused by the kids' antics. Clergymen called on the authorities to use "lunacy laws" to curtail the dance craze, and they weren't the only ones to hit on that idea. 

"Where the Next Marathon Should Be Held" by Dennis McCarthy in Fort Worth Record, April 25, 1923

Maryland Commissioner for State Hygiene warned of health risks, including that "mental strain, which would be almost severe as physical, might leave a permanent impairment, a condition of mental instability, with periods of depression or of excitement."

"Her Partner" by Edward Gale in Los Angeles Times, April 21,1923

My, that got dark quickly!

"Speaking of Marathon Dances" by Sidney Strube in London Daily Express by April 20, 1923

Meanwhile, some cartoonists seized on the dance marathon craze to comment on other current events. British cartoonist Sidney Strube here refers to the massive wartime loans his country promised to repay the United States — eventually. In Strube's scenario, the British Taxpayer would be dancing "the I-O-U Fox Trot" long after the next World War had come and gone.

"Destructive Dancing" by Clifford Berryman in Washington (DC) Evening Star, April 20, 1923

Clifford Berryman adapted the dance craze motif for the communist regime in Russia, showing no signs of leaving the stage after 65.5 months in power.

"Here's Hoping He Goes After a World's Record" by Dennis McCarthy in Fort Worth Record, April 19, 1923

And I'm sorry, Dennis, but this one's a swing and a miss. Considering that the kids right there in Fort Worth had also vied for that coveted world record only to have local law enforcement shut them down after only twelve hours, this pitch was well outside the zone.

"Jazzed Up to Date" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 24, 1923

Mutt and Katrinka

In the post I'm working on for this Saturday, there is a reference to two cartoon features from 1923. One retains some residual fame; the other, not so much.

Some of you might have heard of "Mutt and Jeff" by Bud Fischer:

"Mutt and Jeff" by Bud Fisher, April 22, 1923

Mutt and Jeff appeared in a couple of animated film features back in the 1910's, and Mutt and Jeff plays hit the vaudeville circuit. Their names lived on for a while as something one might call any pair of boys or men of dissimilar height.

The Powerful Katrinka was a recurring character in Fontaine Fox's "Toonerville Folks." You might possibly have heard of the Toonerville Trolley, or the 1940's films starring Mickey Rooney as the Toonerville town bully Mickey McGuire. 

"The Powerful Katrinka" by Fontaine Fox for Wheeler Syndicate, April 18, 1923

Now when they come up on Saturday, you'll know who they are.

Big Al's Sports Report (Love That Tinkle!)

In honor of the World Series, in which no other country in the world has been invited to play, Sliderback Saturday winds up and pitches some cartoons from the even more exclusive World Series of 1922.

"The Fan" by Clifford Berryman in Washington (DC) Evening Star, Oct. 4, 1922

Not only was the 1922 World Series limited to teams from one country, it was limited to teams from just one city. The series pitted the New York Giants against the New York Yankees, so you might suppose that the rest of the country would have lost all interest in what had become a strictly New York affair.

"Total" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, Oct. 4, 1922

But that wouldn't sell papers, would it?

"The Ball Weevils" by John Knott in Galveston Daily News, Oct. 8, 1922

If any interest in the series fell off in the rest of the country, there were still enough fans of the game, or at least gambling on it, to warrant this cautionary cartoon out of Dallas.

Any gamblers who bet on the Yankees were shut out of luck: the New York Baseball Giants swept them four games to none. (There were five games in this subway series; Game 2 ended in a 3-3 tie after ten innings.)

"Hats Off to M'Graw" by Bud Counihan in New York Evening World, Oct. 9, 1922

One newspaper job that disappeared decades ago was that of the sports cartoonist. Major newspapers like the New York Evening World might even have more than one on staff.

Here Bud Counihan salutes the winning coach, John J. McGraw and illustrates highlights of the final game of the series for the benefit of those who might have only read about the games the next day in the paper, if they didn't happen to have access to one of them new-fangled radio thingamabobs.

"Oh, the Melancholy Days" by John Knott in Galveston Daily News, Oct. ,4 1922

Fortunately for fans then and now, if one's baseball team falls by the wayside short of the World Series, one can always turn to football. It's the start of the gridiron season, and anything is still possible.  

"Impressions of the Pitt-Bucknell Football Game" by Bertin F. Link in Pittsburgh Press, Oct. 29, 1922

Judging by the sports cartoonists of the day, there were more fans of college-level football than of the professional variety. The newly-named National Football League consisted of sixteen teams, only two of which remain with us today: the Decatur Staleys (now the Chicago Bears) and Racine/Chicago (now Arizona) Cardinals.

"A Tragedy of the Football Field" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, Oct. 29, 1922

One thing that has changed has been efforts to protect football players from serious injury. You'll notice in these cartoons that the football players' helmets are nothing more than leather caps. They have no mouth guard (although by the 1920's, some players were improvising attempts at creating them); disfiguring facial injuries were commonplace. Concussions were expected and accepted. 

This may seem difficult to believe, but in football, there was more of a priority in protecting the player’s upper body, than in head protection. The invention of football shoulder pads was by L.P. Smock, who was a student a Princeton. His 1877 design were made of wool and leather and were actually stitched onto the player’s jersey. After the turn of the century, we see the development of the ‘harnessed’ shoulder pads that are over the head and attached via the chest area. While an improvement in design, they continued to be made of a combination of canvas and leather. It wasn’t until the 1960’s and 70’s that plastic shoulder pads appeared. By the 1990’s we saw the advent of the bulky padding that our players today wear.

"Speaking of Fullbacks" by Woodson M. Cowan for George Matthew Adams Syndicate, ca. Oct. 13, 1922

The general attitude was that players were tough guys able to withstand a little brain damage. Since the print is quite small, I'll point out the doctor examining University of Iowa fullback Gordon Locke on the right side of Iowa native Wood Cowan's cartoon:

Scientist: "The X-ray shows your skull to be exceedingly thick."

Text: "Scientist discovered that his dome is especially constructed for use as battling ram to hit the line with."

As pointed out elsewhere in the cartoon, Locke was no simple-minded bonehead. He would graduate third in his class at the University of Iowa College of Law, graduating in the top three of his law school class. After coaching football at U of I and Western Reserve University, he was general assistant law director for the city of Cleveland, then general counsel in Washington D.C. for the Committee for Oil Pipe Lines.

Sticking with football for one more cartoon, I'll note here that off the playing field, striking coal miners had reached agreements with mine owners and gone back to work. But then as now, supply chain issues meant that cold weather was moving in before adequate supplies of coal to heat everyone's homes and businesses. What supplies there were fetched premium prices.

"Neighborhood News" by Fontaine Fox for Wheeler Syndicate, Oct. 28, 1922

Then as now, it was surely all Joe Biden's fault.

Saturday Sports Report

I was preparing this review of century-old cartoons a few weeks ago, only to shelve it when Milwaukee Mayor Tom Barrett was appointed U.S. Ambassador to Luxembourg. I figured that such a momentous event was of more immediate import; these 100-year-old cartoons could stand to wait a few weeks longer.

"The Pep and Vigor of Their Grandparents" by Gaar Williams in Indianapolis News, ca. Aug./Sept. 1921

When I had originally planned to publish this post, the U.S. Open was about to start, which is a big thing in our house. I had always assumed that tennis had remained a genteel sport until, oh, I don't know, John McEnroe showed up; but Gaar Williams here shows that genteelity on the court went out of fashion along with the bustle. I can't tell, however, whether the players in the lower panel had yet adopted the habit of loudly grunting, groaning, and shrieking with every shot.

"What We May Come to..." by Herbert S. Thomas in London Opinion, by Sept. 1921

Shrieking aside, if Bert Thomas's cartoon from London Opinion is to be believed, Messrs. MacEnroe, Connors, Borg, et al. had some catching up to do before they achieved the athleticism of their female forebears. 

"Man, the Master" by Alfred G. "Zere" Ablitzere in New York Post, September 12, 1921

Turning to other popular summertime sports (we do still have a couple more days of summer, don't we?), there's baseball — of that storied American trilogy with motherhood and apple pie.

"Dad Rushes Out..." by Fontaine Fox in Providence Journal, Aug./Sept., 1921

Meanwhile, the grown-up Boys of Summer were closing in on the World Series; New York's Giants and Yankees were in hot pursuit, respectively, of the American League Pittsburgh Pirates and National League Cleveland Indians.

"The Baseball Stage" by Thornton Fisher in New York Evening World, August 30, 1921

Thornton Fisher's complaint about the National League centered on a number of rules changes, described by Evening World sports reporter Robert Boyd thusly:

"Rules makers introducing drastic measures, the livelier ball and reducing the size of the parks to increase the revenue of the club by avaricious magnates, has changed the game. Where close games and a touch of the dramatic atmosphere once prevailed, wild batting orgies now predominate. Loose fielding, pitching that once would have turned the rawest 'busher' to shame, has now robbed the great national institution of much of its former grandeur."

"In the Sportlight" by Daniel "Bud" Counihan in New York Evening World, September 30, 1921

A month later, the New York ball clubs were riding high, having just drubbed the Indians and the Philadelphia Athletix.

Sports page cartoonist Bud Counihan would later go on to pen the comic strip version of Betty Boop. (An earlier strip of his, "The Big Little Family" showed up in this here blog back in May.) 

"Outdoor Sports" by Thomas A. "Tad" Dorgan in New York Journal, ca. Sept. 16, 1921

And finally, let's check out the action on the links, where we find "Tad" Dorgan, taking his New York Journal comic panel "Indoor Sports" outside from its usual office milieu.

Whether you know it or not, you are familiar with several phrases Dorgan contributed to American slang as cartoonist and as a sports reporter: he is responsible for dumbbell (meaning idiot), cat's pajamas/whiskers, for crying out loud, cheaters (meaning eyeglasses), hard-boiled (meaning tough and unsentimental), 23 skiddoo, dumb Dora, and —earworm alert!— "Yes, we have no bananas."

"He Got Madder and Madder..." by A.B. Frost in Life, September 29, 1921

Perhaps we had best leave these duffers alone. I'd hate to see how this guy handles a sand trap.

Independence Day, 1921

"When Dad Was a Boy and Today" by Goeta, July 4, 1921

It's Independence Eve, so while we anxiously await Thomas Jefferson's coming down our chimneys tonight to leave fireworks under our cherry tree, Sparklerback Saturday brings you the latest in 100-year-old cartoons celebrating the holiday.

"Just as the Youngsters Were Setting Off Their Big Firecracker" by Fontaine Fox in New York Evening Sun, July 1, 1921

Fontaine Fox's long-running cartoon feature included the very popular "Toonerville Trolley," which made the jump to animated shorts for the movie theatres. That might be before your time, so I'll add that one of its regular characters would be the inspiration for Looney Tunes's Yosemite Sam. And if you're too young to know who that is, I can't help you.

Fourth of July firecrackers blowing up unintended targets was a staple of Independence Day cartoons, as were admonitions to observe a "Safe and Sane Fourth." 

"The Safe and Sane Fourth" by Alfred G. "Zere" Ablitzere in New York Evening Post, July 2, 1921

Your great-grandparents were just as likely as you are to engage in unsafe and insane activities to celebrate our nation's birthday, although I don't think they ever managed to burn down everything west of the Rockies.

"Independence Day" by Harold T. Webster in New York Tribune, July 4, 1921

Prohibition showed up in a number of Independence Day cartoons in 1921. In case the print is too small to read on your iPhone, the book flying out of the cellar in H.T. Webster's cartoon is titled Recipes for Home Brew.

At the risk of stirring up some long-settled dirt: a year later, Fontaine Fox would use the same basic idea as Webster did for the holiday. Fox described his inspiration for the 1922 cartoon to Wesley Stout in a syndicated article that December:

“Cartoonists are supposed to work by inspiration. I do not, nor any I have known, We get our background from our own lives. In my case the particular idea almost invariably is the result of the impact of two disassociated ideas, produced after much thought and experiment. I first noticed the trick in the stories of O. Henry, who, like a cartoonist, first thought out his climax, then worked back. My last Fourth of July cartoon is an example. I thought over all the hackneyed subjects of the day; no idea there. I remembered a last-year’s cartoon contrasting the stealthy home-brewer with the title ‘Independence Day.’ That conception had been exhausted. Home-brewing and exploding firecrackers bear no relation to each other, but suddenly they came together and produced a cartoon.

"Neighborhood News" by Fontaine Fox, July 5, 1922

“Why not have the home-brewer’s still explode, but in the midst of the usual racket of the Fourth and thereby escape notice? There it was. It was original, it was laughable, and it was possible. That’s all there is to it.”

As Fox freely admitted, he had seen some cartoon linking home stills and fireworks, and it very well may not have been that of the widely syndicated Webster. It's quite possible that there is some other cartoon out there that Fox did see; Webster was not the only cartoonist in 1921 to contrast the ideals of the Founding Fathers with the ideals of the Parading Prohibitionists.

"When We Read History to the Children..." by Rube Goldberg, July 4, 1921

This Rube Goldberg cartoon just goes to show that there is absolutely nothing new in opinions about current events showing up on the comics page.

Since the print is so small, here is the text of the first panel:

Father: "'On July 4th, 1776, our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence and made us a free people."

Child: "But Daddy, I don't understand."

Picket sign: "Don't set off fireworks. Don't play cards. Don't drink. Don't smoke. Don't play pool. Don't laugh. Don't everything."

"Our National Birthright and Bulwark..." by Leo Bushnell for Central Press Assn., July 4, 1921

As always, there were enough politically neutral patriotic cartoons for newspapers in the Great American Middle to splash across Page One of the Fourth of July edition. 

"The Heart of the Nation" by Bill Satterfield for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., by July 4, 1921

"Zip —Boom—Bang" by Magnus Kettner for Western Newspaper Union, by July 5, 1921

(Side note: Independence Day fell on a Monday that year, and many evening papers did not publish on the holiday.)

"Political Freedom, 1776..." by John Baer, by July 1, 1921

Striking a more confrontational tone, labor cartoonist and former Congressman John Baer penned this cartoon for labor newspapers touting a pronouncement from the American Federation of Labor. Under Republican presidents and congresses, and in spite of Baer's cartoon, organized labor in the 1920's saw a decline in union membership and political influence.

The orator in Baer's cartoon does not much resemble AFL President Samuel Gompers, his successor William Green, or Baer himself. If anyone can identify him, I'd be pleased to hear it.

"Those Americans Don't Know What Real Independence Is" by Clifford Berryman in Washington Evening Star, July 4, 1921

Meanwhile, Clifford Berryman draws a contrast between the United States and the workers' paradise in Soviet Russia, depicting Lenin and Trotsky standing incongruously in a field of Greek ruins.

"Safe and Sane" by J.N. "Ding" Darling in Colliers, July 9, 1921

Making a more pointed observation, "Ding" Darling notes that the U.S. was celebrating its independence from an imperial power on the other side of an ocean despite having become a transoceanic imperial power itself.

As it happened, neither Russia nor the Philippines were the Big News that Independence Day weekend. Jack Dempsey's victory over Frenchman Georges Carpentier to retain the title of World Boxing Champion made banner headlines — and EXTRA! editions — in many newspapers around the country.

Nobody was able to watch it live Cable+ Pay Per View in those days, you know.

Some papers, on the other hand, had local news to report — in this case with a startling level of cheering-on:

Ah, but you were not expecting to run into any Critical Race Theory today, so let us blithely return to holiday hijinks and gentle giggles. 

"Polly and Her Pals" by Cliff Sterrett, July 4, 1921

To end today's post on a lighter note, here are the July 4 episode of "Polly and Her Pals" and Gluyas Williams's "Guide to Fourth of July Oratory." To those of you reading on a hand-held device, I apologize for not replacing Mr. Williams's captions with larger print or cutting the cartoon up into nine separate image files.  To the rest of you, enjoy the cartoon as it was originally meant to be seen. 

On a desktop computer screen.

"A Complete Guide to Fourth of July Oratory" by Gluyas Williams in Life, July 7, 1921