MCMXVIII Point XIV

"Les Dieux de la Guerre" by Adolphe-Léon Willette in La Baïonnette, Paris, January 3, 1918

1917 was an awfully eventful year, as years go, so it's hardly surprising that 1918 got off to a running start. Well, not so much on the battlefield; an Entente Powers victory here was countered by a Central Powers victory there, and the fight along the Western Front was accomplishing very little other than sending young men home in boxes. Exit Romania. Enter Brazil.

This is the context in which President Woodrow Wilson introduced his "Fourteen Points" in a speech on January 8, 1918. Viewing the complex system of bilateral alliances compelling one nation after another to commit to a war that really should have been a matter between Austria and Serbia alone, Wilson proposed "open covenants of peace" in place of "private international understandings," and establishment of a "general association of nations" for the resolution of international disputes.

"Peace and Justice" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, January, 1918

Other points prescribed freedom of the seas, an end to German occupation of Belgium, redrawing of European boundaries based on ethnicity of population, and creation of independent states for Poland and non-Turkish territories of the Ottoman Empire.

"For This We Fight" by John H. Cassel in New York Evening World, January 9 or 10, 1918

Support for Wilson's proposals was nearly unanimous in the American press, as reflected in these editorial cartoons.

"Hog Proof, By Thunder!" by Jay N. "Ding" Darling, January 9, 1918

Notably absent from the 14 Points is any insistence on a change in the governments of the Central Powers. According to a map of Wilson's proposals published in the Houston Post on January 14, the only significant loss Germany would suffer would be the region of Alsace-Lorraine. Austria-Hungary would cede Trentino and Istria to Italy; otherwise, this mapmaker didn't venture a guess how the empire would be broken up. (Also unaccounted for on this map are promises of a "free and secure access to the sea" for Serbia in Point XI.)

In the end, English and French demands at war's end resulted in much harsher terms for Germany, both in terms of territory and reparations, than Wilson envisioned. Nevertheless, at Wilson's death in February of 1924, Munich cartoonist Thomas Theodor Heine blamed his country's troubles on the late President and his 14 Points (here represented by fourteen beads on a fishhook):

"Wilson vor Seinem Richter" by Thomas Theodor Heine in Simplicissimus, Munich, February 25, 1924

A major concern for the U.S., Great Britain and France were the on-going peace negotiations between the Central Powers and Russia.

"A Performance for Little Children" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Evening Dispatch, January, 1918

Although the above map imagines significant losses to Russia of its western territories, the longest of the Fourteen Points extends several promises to Russia in hopes of derailing the peace negotiations in Brest-Litovsk, in present Belarus.

VI. The evacuation of all Russian territory and such a settlement of all questions affecting Russia as will secure the best and freest cooperation of the other nations of the world in obtaining for her an unhampered and unembarrassed opportunity for the independent determination of her own political development and national policy and assure her of a sincere welcome into the society of free nations under institutions of her own choosing; and, more than a welcome, assistance also of every kind that she may need and may herself desire. The treatment accorded Russia by her sister nations in the months to come will be the acid test of their good will, of their comprehension of her needs as distinguished from their own interests, and of their intelligent and unselfish sympathy.

When the Russian Bolshevik government discovered that Germany and Austria expected the Brest-Litovsk treaty to take Poland and the Baltic states away from Russia, negotiations toward the treaty were stalled.

"The Mask That Was Torn Off" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Eagle, January, 1918

But with the Russian army in near total disarray and newly autonomous Ukraine offering badly needed grain to Vienna (negating what little leverage Russia had at Brest), Lenin and Trotsky found that they were in a hopeless negotiating position.

"The More They Squabble" by cartoonist in Noví Satirikon, Petrograd, December, 1917?

Wilson, for his part, offered the hope of American reinforcements to the Russian Army if Russia would just remain in the war, but there simply was no practical way of getting U.S. military men and materiel through to the Eastern Front.

"Russen-Ersatz" by Ragnvald Blix in Simplicissimus, Munich, January 22, 1918

In the end, no amount of Allied threats, promises or cajoling would prevent Lenin's government from agreeing to a peace treaty on Germany's terms.

"If You Lay Down Your Rifle" by Soler in l'Esquella, Barcelona, December 1917 or January 1918.

(In case you missed it earlier, Japan was on the Allies' side during this one.)

The Italian Front

Saltareback Saturday continues our tutorial on World War I. In my opinion, the War to End All Wars gets short shrift in American history lessons, considering how pivotal it was in revealing European monarchies as sclerotic and dysfunctional. The Italian campaign of that war is ignored all the moreso; but I've married into an Italian-American family and been fascinated by the history of the place during visits to the Old Country. So indulge me a little, would you?

"Clouds That Will Pass" by Rollin Kirby in New York World, November, 1917

Russia's withdrawal from the war had allowed Germany to come to Austria's aid in the Battles of Isonzo. Greatly outnumbered as a result of this turn of events, Italian forces surrendered the line at the Tagliamento River and retreated to the Piave. Austro-German forces employing chemical weapons captured the highlands of Asiago and the Brenta valley, pressing toward the Venetian plains.

As far as some Germans were concerned, this was just desserts for Italy's having deserted the Triple Alliance when war broke out in the summer of 1914 and subsequently having declared war on its erstwhile allies in May of 1915.

"Vittorio der Meineidige" by Olaf L. Gulbransson in Simplicissimus, Munich, November 20, 1917

Olav Gulbransson's cartoon of King Victor Emmanuel III fleeing buxom furies includes a notation that the cartoon is based on a work of Franz von Stuck, "Orestes Erinyes." There is no record that the royal family was ever considered to be in danger, but given the situation unfolding in Russia, Simplicissimus's cartoonists delighted in imagining the Vaterland's conquest of Rome.

"Wenn die Not Am Größten" by Erich Schilling in Simplicissimus, Munich, November 20, 1917

Allied commanders prepared for a worst-case scenario of losing everything north of the Adige. Many priceless statues, paintings and ivories, as well as the famed horses of the Basilica of San Marco, were spirited away from Venice in case that city were to fall to the Germans.

"When 'Kultur' Reaches Venice" by W.A. Rogers in New York Herald, November, 1917

Jubilant German cartoonists depicted the removal of art and artifacts somewhat differently.

"Furchtbare Panik" by Karl Arnold in Simplicissimus, November 20, 1917

Most American cartoonists accepted their role of cheerleader for the Allies, either drawing cartoons of Germany and the Kaiser as menacing evil despoilers of civilization...

"The Progress of Kultur" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, November, 1917

...or encouraging readers not to give up hope, belittling the enemy's successes.

"Maybe There's a Nail in the Boot" by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, November, 1917

It is worth noting that when Italy entered the war, its army had significant numerical superiority over Austrian forces in the Alps. Italian military leadership relied, however, on strategies that were 100 years out of date. Italy's casualties in the eleven Isonzo offensives were huge yet yielded negligible results, and troops brought in to replace soldiers killed were severely under-trained. Supply lines were stretched beyond their limits, and low morale led to desertions and mutinies. The newly appointed Italian commander in 1917, General Luigi Cadorna, was widely despised by his troops, but you wouldn't know that from Allied cartoons.

"No Touchdown!" by Homer Stinson in Dayton News, November, 1917

No, American readers were more likely to see disparaging assessments of Germany's partners in the war...

"Und Only Mein Unselfishness Iss Safing You" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, October, 30 1917

...And, above and below, thanksgiving that Great Britain and France were coming to Italy's rescue.

"In the Nick of Time" by Bert Blessington in El Paso Morning Times, November 13, 1917

By the way, there is much to see and do in Venice. If you ever visit, which you ought to do before climate change puts it all under water, don't miss those gleaming bronze (well, probably mostly copper) horses at St. Mark's Basilica. The ones you can see from the Piazza di San Marco are modern replicas, but for a modest fee and a trip up a very old and worn staircase, you can look at them up close and personal. You can also see the originals, which date from antiquity, in the museum up there. Only then can you fully appreciate how much they've traveled, from ancient Greece to Constantinople to Venice to Paris and back to Venice again. And wherever they were hidden in 1917.

Buy Bonds, Not Booze

Snootfulback Saturday returns to the thrilling days of yestercentury to resurrect cartoons about grain, alcohol, and Liberty Loans.

A few weeks ago, I included a John "Ding" Darling cartoon of not-as-yet-President Herbert Hoover reviewing his "troops," consisting of various foodstuffs. Ding was not the only cartoonist to admire Mr. Hoover; Bill Sykes at the Philadelphia Evening Ledger portrays him here as a watchcat returning to scatter the forces of Waste, Greed, Selfishness and Speculation threatening the nation's food supply.

"Watchful Waiting" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, June, 1917

The prospect of food shortages and profiteering was a concern that predated the U.S. entry into World War I, but concern over them was only amplified once war was declared. Taking advantage of these concerns was the Prohibitionist movement. The temperance and prohibitionist movement dated back decades, its political viability now gaining strength in part because of America's war footing, yet even more due to extension of voting rights to women.

"The Menace" by Joe Murphy in San Francisco Call,  June, 1917

Oscar Cesare illustrates the menace of booze to the U.S. food supply employing a parallel to one of the main issues for the country having entered the war.

"The Mine" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, June, 1917

I've never seen the issues of prohibition and Daylight Saving Time tied together before; doesn't having more daylight hours in the evening give a guy more time to spend in the tavern after the day's work is done? Or did Harry Murphy count on those early mornings deterring whisky-soaked nights?

"More Daylight, Less Whisky" by Harry Murphy in Chicago Examiner, June 9, 1917

Passage of the 18th Amendment was still two years away in 1917, but "dry" municipalities were proliferating all over the country. Cartoonist Ray Handy of the Duluth News-Tribune touted his hometown's aridity in one panel of a two-page spread on Duluth's attractions in Cartoons Magazine.

Detail from "Cities Beautiful 8 - Duluth" by Ray N. Handy in Cartoons Magazine, July, 1917

Meanwhile, June 10-16 was designated as Liberty Loan week, so the nation's cartoonists dutifully turned their pens to the task of inspiring their fellow citizens to lend the government money to fund the war effort. For the most part, the cartoons illustrate my Cartooning Rule of Thumb that cartoons arguing in favor of anything are flat and uninteresting. (So I'm only going to show you seven of them.)

There are only so many ways to cartoon what a swell idea sending extra money to Uncle Sam is, after all. Frank King's "Rectangle" (of which this is only the top half) hit all the bases that Sunday.

"The Rectangle" by Frank O. King in Chicago Tribune, June 10, 1917

The original Liberty Loan —there would be three more— was authorized by Congress to raise $2 billion toward the $7 billion war credit. Liberty Loans offered a fixed return rate of 3.5%, tax-free, promising greater security than a bank in those days before the FDIC — when no bank was too big to fail. Another $1.8 trillion, however, was to be raised by various war taxes, so getting Americans to lend Uncle Sam even more money was going to take some hard selling.

"We Can't All Play..." by Bill Sykes for Philadelphia Evening Ledger,  June, 1917

Bill Sykes was one of quite a few cartoonists who drew a different Liberty Loan sales pitch every day that week. Certainly, there were several well-drawn cartoons, but most were fairly ponderous. Here's an example of both tendencies.

"Bringing Up the Ammunition" by Robert Carter in Philadelphia Press, June, 1917

There were, of course, occasional attempts at humor.

"C-A-S-H!!" by Brinkerhoff in New York Evening Mail, June, 1917

But one cartoon after another simply harped on the need for citizens to do their public duty.

"Help Her Carry It" by Milton R. Halladay in Providence Journal, June, 1917

On the other hand, the Chicago Tribune's John McCutcheon offered a practical argument based on the Liberty Lender's self-interest (no pun intended); inches away, the front page editor attempted to use civic pride to goad his fellow Chicagoans to do their part.

"This Is Liberty Loan and Marine Corps Week" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, June 11, 1917

In the end, most Liberty Loans were made not by individuals but by banks and investment groups who recognized the investment opportunity. The blunt propaganda from American cartoonists, advertisers and celebrities notwithstanding, the average citizen was uncomfortable with the idea of entrusting his savings to the government — especially given the taxes that he had no choice but to pay.

"A Proud But Touching Parting" by Jay "Ding" Darling for New York Tribune,  June, 1917

The First Casualty of War

Censorback Saturday today notes the centennial of the Espionage Act of 1917. The House passed President Wilson's bill on May 4, 1917, and the Senate followed suit on May 14. It would be challenged in court, and ultimately was upheld in a unanimous decision by the Supreme Court in Schenk v. United States in 1919. It has become the foundation of every law seeking to limit freedom of the press ever since.

"The Light That Must Not Fail" by Harry Murphy for Chicago Examiner, May 5, 1917

On its face, most of the law would only be in effect during wartime. The Espionage Act made it a crime to convey information with intent to interfere with the operation or success of the armed forces of the United States or to promote the success of its enemies; to promote the success of its enemies when the United States is at war; to cause or attempt to cause insubordination, disloyalty, mutiny, refusal of duty, in the military or naval forces of the United States; or to willfully obstruct the recruiting or enlistment service of the United States.  The Act also gave the Postmaster General authority to impound publications that he determined to be in violation of the Act.

"That Wooden One" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, May 5, 1917

A number of publishers and cartoonists recognized the threat posed to a free press. William Hearst published an almost daily torrent of editorials — some of them taking up an entire page — such as this excerpt:

President Wilson, who has been right in so many things of late, is singularly wrong in his advocacy of this bill to suppress free speech and free publication.
He says that he can be trusted not to misuse the extraordinary powers which this bill confers. Possibly he can be so trusted, but why should any American President desire to see the provisions of the American Constitution violated in order to secure despotic powers which are essentially unAmerican as well as unconstitutional?

"Transplanting the Czar" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, May 4, 1917

Why should an American President, even though he might be as great as any American President we have ever had, desire to set an example in autocracy, and create a precedent which would surely be abused by some less able or less loyal chief executive elected at some future period?

100 years later, we have a permanent state of war, and a congenital liar as our greatly less able, less loyal chief executive who openly advocates punishment for anyone in the media who dares to contradict him (and a Justice Department that has prosecuted and convicted a woman for laughing at the Attorney General)... but I digress.

"All Ready to Fight of Liberty" by Boardman Robinson in The Masses, June, 1917

The socialist monthly The Masses likewise warned against the proposed censorship rules, and with good reason. The magazine would be prosecuted and put out of business for its antiwar articles and even an Art Young cartoon. (In case it's difficult to see on your screen, Uncle Sam is handcuffed by "censorship" in Boardman Robinson's cartoon above.)

The Masses is throwing all its weight against militarism and nationalistic prejudice. It is attempting to minimize the effect on public opinion of a press dominated by military expediency and patriotic emotionalism. It is trying to think clearly and tell the truth without patriotic hatred and without patriotic sentimentality.
Ours is a difficult task.

"The Prisoner" by George Bellows in The Masses, July, 1917; earlier in The Blast.

Others, however, were perfectly willing to grant the government whatever power it might wish to have to lock up any perceived threat to the nation. Suspicion of hyphenated-Americans was not about to go away any time soon.

"Jail Them" by Sidney Greene in New York Evening Telegram, May 4, 1917

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By the way, I see that Mark Green, Trump's second nominee for Secretary of the Army and the subject of the cartoon I posted here on Thursday, withdrew his name from consideration on Friday. I guess I don't know my own strength.

Hereby Formally Declared

This was the week 100 years ago, that the U.S.A. officially declared war on Germany in World War I.

"Good Morning!" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, April 4, 1917

Now, it's important to understand that once upon a time, Congress was the branch of government with the power to declare war. President Woodrow Wilson addressed Congress on April 2 to present his argument for a declaration of war; after some debate on the matter, the Senate approved the declaration on April 4 by a vote of 82 to 6, and the House followed suit on April 6 by a vote of 373 to 50.

To a dwindling number of Americans, the nation's cause was protection of the country, pure and simple. Germany had resumed sinking merchant vessels sailing the Atlantic, downing a number of American ships; the Zimmerman telegram intercepted between the German and Mexican foreign ministers revealed that the Kaiser had promised U.S. territory to Mexico and to Japan if they would declare war on the U.S.

Here Hearst cartoonist Winsor McCay depicts the American eagle guarding its chicks: East, South, North and West. It is safe to say he is referring to quarters of the United States, not of the globe.

Winsor McCay in New York American, April, 1917

But for most of the country and its cartoonists, the cause was nothing less than the defense of Democracy itself against the forces of Autocracy (ally Russia having conveniently overthrown its autocratic monarch only weeks earlier).

"To the Defense of His Standard!" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, April 4, 1917

I could go on and on with cartoons pitting Democracy vs. Autocracy, but I'll limit it to these two Chicago cartoonists' take on it.

"To the Finish" by Harry Murphy in Chicago Examiner, April 7, 1917

To some, it wasn't just a question of form of government, but a matter of the survival of civilization itself. To that end, we have three shiny swords; Fred Morgan's is engraved "Truth, Justice" on the blade, and "United States" on the hilt:

"For Civilization and Humanity" by Fred Morgan in Philadelphia Inquirer, April 8, 1917

Nelson Harding gets the same point across without quite so many labels.

"A New Light" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April, 1917

Few cartoonists use Columbia as the personification of the United States any more, but she was still fairly common in 1917, as in this Bill Sykes cartoon.

"So Be It!" by Charlse "Bill" Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, April 6, 1917

American soldiers would not arrive in Europe until the summer; the American military was then as now a volunteer force, nearly adequate for an excursion into Mexico to chase after Pancho Villa, but well short of what would be required to make a difference in the Great War overseas. The publisher of the Chicago Tribune, Robert McCormick, (then a Major in the Illinois National Guard) posted this full-page ad committing his newspaper to beefing up the Illinois contingent of the U.S. Army.

Advertisement in Chicago Tribune, April 6, 1917

Any newspaper nowadays worth its pulp would reprint a presidential declaration of war in its entirety. There's a fair chance your local paper had Trump's Thursday night announcement in full somewhere, at least on line. Can you imagine a newspaper today hawking a "splendid souvenir of national crisis" though?

Advertisement in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, April 7, 1917. (Another full-page ad)

You can look up President Wilson's Great Speech if you like; otherwise, you can settle for a little taste of it in William Hanny's front page cartoon:

"Too Deep for Him" by William F. Hanny in St. Joseph (Mo.) News Press, April 5, 1917

News coverage was unreservedly in support of going to war, even to the point of jauntiness. New York Evening Telegram staff cartoonist Roy Hoppmann's cartoon to illustrate a news report and the headlines written for the article both make light of the situation.

News illustration by Roy Hoppmann in New York Evening Telegram,  April 4, 1917

The Chicago Daily News's Ted Brown depicted going to war as a fashion statement.

"Not His Style" by Ted Brown in Chicago Daily News, April 6, 1917

John McCutcheon, in a cartoon the morning after the House vote, is a little less light-hearted about going to war, but no less enthusiastic.

"As We March to Armageddon" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, April 7, 1917