Catching Up, International Edition

By rights, today's Graphical History Tour ought to take us into cartoons from October of 1926. But we still have a couple of international stories to take care of from that September.

We start with the federal election in Canada.

"Definitions" by Douglas H.N. Russell in Vancouver Daily Province, Sept. 11, 1926

We've been following the 1926 campaign, but Douglas Russell kindly reintroduces us to the major parties contesting for power in the above cartoon. 

Arthur Meighen's Conservatives were nominally the incumbent party, but never had a coalition partner to achieve a working majority in Parliament in the three days they were in power. The coalition of William Mackenzie King's Liberals and Robert Forke's Progressives had lost their majority in November, 1925. Labour and other minor parties had more in common with the Liberals or Progressives than with the Conservatives.

"The Liberal Champion Still in the Lead" by Sam Hunter in Toronto Daily Star, Sept. 10, 1926

Most of the partisan cartoons leading up to the vote predicted victory for their favored candidate and defeat for the other side. As election day neared, even the partisan cartoonists had to acknowledge that the vote could tip either way.

"Waiting for the Verdict" by George Shields in Evening Telegram, Toronto, Sept. 14, 1926

Sam Hunter was a committed Liberal, and George Shields was an unyielding Tory. Accordingly, whereas Shields depicts Meighen waiting confidently with John Bull at his shoulder (you surely recall that Canada was a part of the United Kingdom at this time), King sweats nervously, backed by his alleged patron, a scowling Uncle Sam.

"Class Selfishness Versus Canadian Progress" by Arthur G. Racey in Montreal Daily Star, Sept. 11, 1926

Arthur Racey was another dyed-in-the-wool Tory, but I find hardly any cartoons of his boosting Meighen. Instead, Racey put out an occasional cartoon critical of Progressive leader Robert Forke. This one attempts to say too much, yet artlessly and without wit, as if it were one of those godawful imitation editorial cartoons extruded by ai.

Where were we? Oh, yes…

The Progressives, with their constituency in the sparsely populated, agrarian plains provinces, ran a consistently distant third to the Liberals and Conservatives, but were indispensable to any Liberal government.

Forke had resigned as leader of the Progressives at the end of June, running instead as a Liberal-Progressive. A number of Albertan Progressives in Parliament also quit the party, switching to the United Farmers of Alberta (UFA) Party.

"The Come-Back" by George Shields in Evening Telegram, Toronto, Sept. 17, 1926

Election Day was September 14. When votes in all the ridings were tallied, Meighen's Conservatives lost 24 seats. Concentrating their efforts on ridings where they stood the best chance of winning, King's Liberals gained 16 seats, despite earning fewer votes overall than the Tories.

Meanwhile, although the leaderless Progressives lost 11 seats, Forke and his Liberal-Progressives picked up eight and the UFA gained nine. Their gains were enough for the Liberals to forge a governmental majority, and King returned as Prime Minister, to the disappointment consternation of the Telegram and its cartoonist.

"Foolish Gosling" by Fred O. Seibel in Richmond Times-Dispatch, Sept. 13, 1926

Moving right along: Coming in too late to be in our August visit there, Fred Seibel came up with one more paternalistic metaphor to explain why the Philippines should remain a colony of the United States. 

A proposal by rubber industry magnates to grant independence to the largely Catholic north of the archipelago while retaining the more Moslem southern islands as an American fiefdom ultimately went nowhere.

"A Noble Ambition" by Fred Seibel in Richmond Times Dispatch, Sept. 12, 1926

Fred Seibel drew this complimentary cartoon about Nancy Astor, Viscountess Astor, a fellow Virginian who was elected to the British Parliament upon the death of her husband, Waldorf Astor. 

Lady Astor was an outspoken suffragist and advocate for education reform, temperance, and recruiting women into civil service. On the other hand, she was an anti-Catholic Nazi sympathizer, so her career  did not survive World War II. For the time being, however, she was quite popular in her riding and back in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

"Everything Bows to His Dominating Will" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., ca. Sept. 21, 1926

Italian Fascist leader Benito Mussolini survived a second assassination attempt in September. 

Anarchist Gino Lucetti had been hiding out in Marseille after shooting Fascist Alessandro Perfetti during an argument the year before, and getting shot himself . Having crossed the border back into Italy under an assumed name, Lucetti threw a bomb at Mussolini's car in front of the Porta Pia in Rome on the very day Lucetti's trial for the Perfetti shooting was to start.

Mussolini was unscathed, although eight bystanders sustained minor injuries, and Lucetti was quickly captured. Mussolini's response to the incident included a veiled warning to France: "We must put an end to the gentle tolerance of parties capable of such matters. It would be well for responsible governments to take note of this, because otherwise their friendship with the Italian people may be fatally compromised, and we are ready to apply suitable methods for this purpose."

"Hands Across the Mediterranean" by William C. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, ca. Sept. 13, 1926

Mussolini forged alliances with his fellow fascist dictator, Miguel Primo de Rivera. De Rivera had overthrown Spain's elected republic in 1923, receiving the support of King Alfonso XIII after the fact.

Morris's cartoon portrays not only the friendship of the two dictators, but also the relationship between them and their respective royals, the diminutive figures peering out between de Rivera's and Mussolini's legs.

But let's close the book on that September with some cheery news: 

"Germany's Admission to the League" by Arthur Racey in Montreal Evening Star, Sept. 16, 1926

Germany and France have promised never to go to war again! Hoorah!

Flights of Frozen Fancy

This week's Graphical History Tour celebrates the 100th anniversary of the first flights over the North Pole by people who weren't puffins.

"Over the Top" by Edmund Duffy in Baltimore Sun, May 11, 1926

U.S. newspapers excitedly reported that Admiral Richard E. Byrd became the first explorer to fly over the North Pole on May 9, 1926. Byrd and pilot Floyd Bennett announced that they had flown their tri-motor monoplane, the Josephine Ford (named after Edsel Ford's daughter) from Spitsbergen, Norway, circling the pole in a nearly 16-hour flight.

According to Byrd's account written for the New York Times and St. Louis Post-Dispatch:

"I took my calculations and found that we were at the Pole. We reached it at 9:04 Greenwich time, just about the hour we had hoped to get there. Bennett and I shook hands simply, and went back to the cabin, stood at attention and saluted for Admiral Peary. The Navy had reached the pole again, the blessed old Navy. I did not drop an American flag. Peary had done that.

"The ice and snow were similar to that which Peary had described, but the ice was not the same as in the polar sea. There it is in constant motion. It was slightly rougher here than it had been when I first described it, but criss crossed in the same way.

"We flew several miles further, circled and then took some still and motion pictures. As we flew there at the top of the world, circumnavigating it in a few minutes' of flight, I regretted that we had not found land, and that our leaky oil tank would prevent our returning by way of Cape Morris-Jessup."

"The Eagle Over the Pole" by Wm. A. Rogers in Washington Post, May 11, 1926

Byrd was an instant American Hero in the press, and editorial cartoonists rushed to crank out jingoistic cartoons, most of them very similar to each other.

"Our Private Flag Pole" by Roy James in St. Louis Star, May 11, 1926

Aside from the flags and eagles, a commonality that strikes me in these cartoons is that nearly all of them show North Pole as a huge inverted icicle, rather than the barber pole that I think of as cartoon cliché. This is only a guess, but the striped pole with the ball on top must have been popularized later.

"The First Over the Top" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, May 11, 1926

John McCutcheon celebrated the news of Byrd's flight as a relief from all the dismal news he was typically faced with — although by bringing up political scandals, wars in Morocco and Syria, labor strife in London, a riot in Paris, and a rum-running ring in New York, McCutcheon was being the wet blanket at the party himself.

"The Hurdle Race" by Dean O'Dell in Dayton Daily News, May 13, 1926

Meanwhile, Norwegian aviator Roald Amundsen was also heading for the North Pole in a semi-rigid airship christened the Norge. The Italian-made airship was delayed by weather on each leg of its journey from Rome, but eventually headed north from Vadsø, Norway on May 11 with a crew of 18 men and one dog.

"Fremdenverkehr" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, May 30, 1926

The Norge crossed the North Pole at 1:25 a.m. GMT on May 12, dropping U.S., Norwegian, and Italian flags onto the ice. In Amundsen's account published by the New York Times and St. Louis Post-Dispatch:

"[W]e went down to a low height, slowed the engines, and [engineer/financier Lincoln] Ellsworth, [pilot Umberto] Nobile and myself dipped our countries' flags. We mounted banners on steel-pointed rods. These rods we steered vertically into the ice as we dropped them, and they remained standing. The crew took their caps off during the ceremony, and it was a beautiful sight to see the flags standing against the glittering snow."

I have colorized the flags in Arthur Johnson's cover cartoon; the copy scanned by the University of Heidelberg appears to have faded considerably. His version of the Norwegian flag somewhat resembles the obsolete Norway-Sweden union flag, except that the faded blue broken bar that I have darkened ought to be yellow, and a black cross in that quadrant of the flag is missing altogether. 

The airship, its propellers damaged by shards of ice during its flight, suffered further damage as it landed at Teller, Alaska. It was dismantled there, short of its announced goal of Nome, and shipped back to Italy; it was never repaired.

"Die 'Norge' Zurück" by Wilhelm Schulz in Simplicissimus, Munich, June 7, 1926

Wilhelm Schulz lampoons Italy's involvement in the flight of the Norge, and perhaps the fate of the airplane itself, depicting an expedition member presenting Benito Mussolini with a helmetful of melted ice. 

Italian hubris over its part in the journey was a valid target for satire. Somewhat contrary to his newspaper account, Amundsen was peeved that the Italian flag dropped at the pole by Nobile was larger than the Norwegian and American flags, and that Nobile continued to drop so many other flags that Amundsen later complained of Nobile turning the Norge "a circus wagon of the skies." Mussolini sent Nobile on a speaking tour of the United States to tout the genius of Italian engineering, putting Amundsen's nose further out of joint.

"Amundsen am Nordpol" by Oskar Garvens in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, May 30, 1926

In German cartoons, at any rate, Amundsen was the star of the show. Berlin cartoonist Garvens gave us something other than an inverted icicle at the north pole: some sort of pepper-, nut-, or coffee-grinder.

As for the caption, it must be a play on the name of Admiral Byrd. My best, albeit wild guess is that un-byrdlich might be a pun on unberührt, untouched; while that might explain the open tin and the eaten sardines, that cactus remains a mystery.

"Another of the Great Silent Places Opens to the Tourist" by J.N. "Ding" Darling in Des Moines Register, May 11, 1926

"Ding" Darling's cartoon makes a similar point for us English-speaking readers. The aviators in the cartoon have left behind not just empty sardine tins, but also empty Uneeda Biscuit boxes, a spent campfire, and graffiti on the pole itself, while planning to "bring the folks up here some day for a picnic."

"Men Must Be Men to Wrestle with Me" by Ernest R. McTaggart in Vancouver Daily Province, British Columbia, May 15, 1926

I am duty-bound to point out that the general consensus since Admiral Byrd's death in 1957 is that he could not possibly have flown his trimotor monoplane, with its maximum speed of 85 mph, from Spitsbergen to the North Pole and back in sixteen hours. 

There is evidence that his flight records were erased and modified. Yet even though doubts of Byrd's claims were raised not long after he landed, he was still awarded the National Medal of Honor and celebrated with a New York ticker tape parade.

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.

Will You Be Mine?

'Tis February 14, and our Graphical History Tour turns lightly to thoughts of love!

Holidays of any sort are a godsend to editorial cartoonists, because we can just check the calendar, and thinking up our cartoon is halfway there. Is it Valentine's Day? Surely there's a job somewhere that would be just perfect for Mr. Cupid. 

Or his understudy.

"Love's Labor Lost" by Sam Hunter in Toronto Daily Star, Feb. 13, 1926

Canada's Conservative Party leader Meighen continued to woo the Progressive Party for enough support to form an improbable coalition government, making for fairly obvious Valentine's Day cartoonistry. Conservatives had won more seats in Parliament than its rivals in the November, 1925 elections, whereas Liberals and Progressives had both lost seats; thanks to a very few minor party members, neither the Conservatives nor the pre-election Liberal-Progressive coalition could muster a governing majority.

"Saint Valentine's Day, 1926" by Arthur Racey in Montreal Star, Feb. 13, 1926

As a fan of the Liberals, Hunter was happy to lampoon the Conservatives' plight. Tory partisan A.G. Racey used the romantic holiday instead to complain about The Kids Today drinking and smoking and wearing rouge.

Who knew that St. Valentine wore glasses?

"Wanted a Valentine" by Clifford Berryman in Washington [DC] Sunday Star Feb. 14, 1926

Down in the States, Congress passed a tax cut bill that was deeper than the Coolidge administration had asked for. Clifford Berryman availed himself of the holiday to depict the bill as a surplus of valentine cards for Treasury Secretary Andrew Mellon.

"Valentines" by Gustavo Bronstrup in San Francisco Chronicle, Feb. 13, 1926

Gustavo Bronstrup sent a tax cut Valentine to a happy taxpayer, and also drew valentine cards from Californians to their Governor (considering a run for federal office), from a traffic cop to a motorist (admonishing for breezing through red lights yet lingering at green ones), and the U.S. over the Senate's vote in favor of joining the World Court.

"A Hint to the Wise Should Be Sufficient" by Ed LeCocq in Des Moines Register, Feb. 14, 1926

Because of conditions included in that Senate bill, the U.S. never actually joined the World Court — nor the League of Nations — before they were dissolved in 1945. Accordingly, Ed LeCocq's Uncle Sam, despite his valentine to Mlle. League, had not gotten over his commitment issues.

"They Have the Exits and Their Entrances" by Daniel Fitzpatrick in St Louis Post-Dispatch, Feb. 14, 1926

Meanwhile, events were building that would test Uncle Sam's isolationist commitment to bachelorhood. Italy's il Duce was a topic of several Valentine's Day cartoons in 1926, and one that defied any allusion to love notes, flowers, and boxed chocolates.

Whereas editorial cartoonists today liken our modern fascist leaders to Mussolini and Hitler, cartoonists in the 1920's and '30's compared far-right politicians of their day to wartime foes of even earlier times.

"Römischer Karneval" by Oskar Garvens in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, Feb. 14, 1926

Oskar Garvens's allusion to Napoleon rings somewhat more true than Daniel Fitzpatrick's to Kaiser Wilhelm, insofar as the most alarming part of a Mussolini speech to the Chamber of Deputies on February 6 were remarks that stopped just shy of declaring war against Austria and Germany. Denying alarmist complaints from Bavarian leaders that Italy had torn down a statue of a German poet and had also prohibited residents of former Austrian territories from having Christmas trees, Mussolini threatened, "Fascist Italy can, if necessary, carry her flag beyond the Brenner frontier" between Italy and Austria.

"Il re bambino" in Garvens's cartoon is Italy's King Victor Emmanuel III, known during World War I as "il Re Soldato" (the soldier king). At 56 years of age, the king was hardly a "bambino"; but his short stature was exaggerated by German cartoonists, especially after the Italian government broke antebellum agreements with Germany and sided with the Entente powers.

"Diplomacy's Sea Becoming Turbulent" by T.E. Powers for Star Newspapers, Feb. 13, 1926 

A few months earlier, Mussolini had celebrated the Locarno peace accords with a public rant, er, speech glorifying war. Mussolini's tirades full of bluster and bravado against Italy's neighbors alarmed leaders across the continent.

"Showing Off" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, Feb. 14, 1926

Remind you of anyone?

Carey Orr's cartoon includes a laundry list of affronts to European diplomacy in addition to the latest "Insult to Germany": Fascisti defiance of France, Corfu insult to Greece, Threat to take control of Mediterranean from England, and Threat against Balkans. 

"Some of These Days He Will Puncture Himself Doing That" by Wm. Hanny in Philadelphia Inquirer, Feb. 14, 1926 

Hubris will get you only so far. But that lesson would only come after another nine years and another World War.

Awakening the Spirit of Locarno

Our Graphical History Tour, as is so often its wont (where there’s a will, there’s a wont), journeys back a century ago to check up on international developments, this time in the late fall.

"Prins Locarno en Sneeuwwitje" by Louis Raemaekers in De Telegraff, Amsterdam, Nov. 21, 1925

The major European powers reached a peacekeeping agreement at Locarno, Switzerland. A series of treaties were initialed in mid-October, 1925 for official signature on December 1.

"Got Him Going" by Arthur G. Racey in Montreal Star, Nov. 28, 1925

Not everyone was involved in the Locarno conference, however. Racey depicts Russia and the U.S. peering over the fence while Mr. Globehead punches War in the nose. Racey has helpfully written Great Britain, Belgium, France, Germany, and Italy on Mr. Globehead's pate.

It must be pointed out that the conference was strictly among countries of western Europe. No eastern European countries were invited; nor were any nations of Asia, Africa, or the Americas.

"The Real Treaty of Peace" by Wm. A. Rogers in Washington Post, Oct./Nov., 1925

The view from the U.S. was nevertheless hopeful. W.A. Rogers tended to be skeptical of international agreements, so one could perhaps interpret this cartoon to suggest the possibility that the Locarno agreement might fall short of a "real treaty of peace"; he seats Poland at the table even though Poland was not represented at the conference.

You may recall where World War II was started.

"Inside the Breakwater" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Nov. 29, 1925

Nelson Harding's cartoon acknowledged that the agreement would not bring an end to war, but believed that it would keep war from European shores.

"Hier Stehe Ich" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Nov. 8, 1925

Arthur Johnson meant the above cartoon, drawn sometime around Reformation Day, depicting German Chancellor Hans Luther quoting Martin Luther, as a rebuke of the warlike inclinations of Germany's rivals. The armored knights on the right side of the cartoon include British negotiator Austen Chamberlain and French representative Aristide Briande, while the monk behind Hans/Martin Luther bears resemblance to German delegate Gustav Stresemann.

"Mussolini Furioso" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, Nov. 22, 1925

I do not recognize a representative of Italy in Johnson's November 8 cartoon. Italian dictator Benito Mussolini gets the starring role in his cover cartoon of November 22 after Il Duce gave a speech in Rome glorifying war at what was supposed to be a celebration of the Locarno accords.

I may not have translated the last word of the caption, “Gottstrammbach,” accurately. Literally “God tight stream,” the best I’ve been able to determine is that it’s some sort of colloquialism in Saxony.

"De Aanslag op Mussolini" by Leendert Jordaan in de Notenkraker, Nov. 14, 1925

Speaking of Signore Mussolini: Tito Zaniboni, a former Socialist deputy, was arrested on November 4 for plotting to assassinate Mussolini during a planned public speech. Mussolini seized upon the plot — he may even have engineered it himself — as an excuse to consolidate power and imprison political rivals.

"The True Status of Benito" by "O. Zim" Zimmerman in Daily Worker, Chicago, Nov. 27, 1925

The communists at the Daily Worker labored under the misapprehension that Mussolini was somehow held by the chains of banker J.P. Morgan. This surely would have come as a surprise to Mussolini himself.

"She Had So Many Children She Didn't Know What to Do" by Edward G. McCandish in Washington Post, Oct. 31, 1925

Getting back to the prospects for world peace: Edward McCandish outlined the international disputes outside the Locarno accords' purview. Spain continued their suppression of the Riffian revolt in Morocco. French forces, while also helping put down the Riffian revolt, were forcibly quelling the Hama uprising against French rule in Syria. And Bulgarian soldiers crossed into Greece in "The War of the Stray Dog," a brief skirmish in October allegedly sparked when a Greek soldier chasing a dog across the countries' border was shot and killed.

"This Ought to Be Easy to Settle" by John Knott in Dallas News, Oct./Nov., 1925

The errant sentry and a captain were killed before the Bulgarians withdrew. Greece demanded an apology and reparations, and mobilized its military to occupy the Bulgarian border town of Petrich to enforce its demands.

"Premature" by Rollin Kirby in New York Evening World, Oct./Nov., 1925

The League of Nations stepped in and quickly resolved the conflict between Bulgaria and Greece, which Rollin Kirby* held up as proof to the doubting "Irreconcilables" in Congress that the League could act, and act decisively.

Bulgaria issued an apology for its soldiers' actions and agreed to pay compensation to the first two Greek soldiers' families. The League of Nations made Greece pay Bulgaria to compensate for the occupation of and civilian death toll in Petrich.

"Something Else Again" by Wm. Sykes in Philadelphia Public Ledger, Oct./Nov. 1925

As for Franco-Syrian hostilities, France would quash the Hama uprising by late November, capturing its leaders and bombarding Damascus from air and ground, resulting in large-scale destruction and a death toll in the thousands. Occasional guerilla attacks by the Syrians continued for the next two years, but without achieving independence.

――――――――

* Tour Guide's Note: My source credited the "Premature" cartoon to Bill Sykes, I believe incorrectly. I find no signature on the cartoon, either because it is missing or cropped out, but the style, and the copyright line included in the original source indicate to me that Rollin Kirby was the probable cartoonist.