Ice Cream, Ice Cream Everywhere, Nor Any Drop to Drink

"The Navy's First Lord Passes the Grog" by Edmund Duffy in Sun, Baltimore, May 31, 1926

I enjoyed the characterizations of a seaman and Navy Secretary Curtis Wilbur in Edmund Duffy's cartoon, so it gets to lead off today's Graphical History Tour. 

The U.S. didn't have army bases all over Europe during Prohibition, but recruits in the U.S. Navy got to take shore leave in ports where beer, wine, and liquor were sold like, well, beer, wine, and liquor.  

To combat naval inebriation, Wilbur authorized the sale aboardship of chewing gum and the like as something to replace the sailors' appetite for booze. In Duffy's cartoon, Wilbur is mollifying a tar with the offer of an ice cream cone —vanilla, of course — just the thing for a tar's night on the town.

"The Circus" by T.E. Powers in New York Evening Journal, ca. May 7, 1926

T.E. Powers correctly pointed out that the Republican Party platforms of 1920 and 1924 were solidly in favor of Prohibition. He overlooked, however, that there was still significant support of Prohibition within the Democratic Party, particularly in the deep South and the West.

"Something Bound to Happen" by Harold Talburt for Newspaper Enterprise Assn. ca. May 23, 1926

A bipartisan proposal to allow the manufacture and sale of less intoxicating beverages such as beer and wine had support among Americans who were not so devoted to complete and total abstinence. Liquor would have remained illegal under most versions of modification, with acceptable levels of Alcohol By Volume (ABV) in legalized libations set by the government.

A primary election in Pennsylvania may have been a bellwether of actual public sentiment on the Prohibition issue.

"A Soaking" by Ed LeCocq in Des Moines Evening Tribune, May 20, 1926

Philadelphia Congressman William Scott Vare won the three-way Republican primary race for Senator over Dry candidates Governor Gifford Pinchot and incumbent Senator George W. Pepper on May 18. Vare ran on an anti-Prohibition platform, charging that the Volstead Act was resulting in a police state, and blaming Prohibition for a 300% rise in alcohol-related crimes in Philadelphia.

"The Ship of the Desert" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, May 20, 1926

The Philadelphia Inquirer dismissed Vare's calls for relaxing, if not repealing Prohibition as a distraction from his well-earned reputation as a machine politician. Nicknamed the "Duke of South Philadelphia," Vare was cozy with gangsters Waxey Gordon and "Lucky" Luciano. The cartoons of its editorial cartoonist, William Hanny, while highly critical of Vare, were mostly predictions that voters would send him down to defeat. 

"And That's What Little Candidates Are Made Of" by J.N. "Ding" Darling in Des Moines Register, May 28, 1926

National cartoonists conveniently overlooked the other major race in Pennsylvania, to succeed Pinchot as Governor. John S. Fisher narrowly edged out former Lt. Governor Edward E. Beidelman, who, in his legal practice, was more closely associated with the Wet cause than Vare.

"The New Band Wagon" by Wm. Sykes in Life, May 27, 1926

Even at least one international cartoonist (albeit a half-American one) also took gleeful note of Pennsylvania's Republican Senate primary, and his cartoon graced the front page of one of Germany's leading satirical weeklies.

"Der Sieg de Nassen in Pennsylvanien" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, June 13, 1926

(Note: I've attempted to recolor some of Arthur Johnson's cartoon.)

There is a good chance that we shall return to Pennsylvania's Senate campaign in future Graphical History Tours, so let's not get ahead of ourselves there. Suffice it to say for today's purposes that Vare's plurality win encouraged a number of politicians elsewhere to voice their reservations against the Noble Experiment.

"Page Moses" by Gustavo Bronstrup in San Francisco Chronicle, May 29, 1926

But repealing — or modifying — a Constitutional Amendment was never intended to be an easy task. Any celebratory champagne toast would have to wait.

Chewing gum, anyone?

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And so ends Graphical History Tour for another day. Be sure to check in again tomorrow for a much more recent editorial cartoon from your humble scribbler!

Uncle Samicus Curiae Mundi

The Graphical History Tour returns to January of 1926, and a moment when it appeared that Uncle Sam was ready to break out of his isolationist sulk.

"Down Comes That Fence" by William Hanny in Philadelphia Inquirer, Jan. 29, 1926

On January 27, 1926, the U.S. Senate voted 76 to 17 in favor of joining the World Court, a proposal that had been waiting for Senate approval since the Harding administration. The World Court was established in 1921 as a peacekeeping arm of the League of Nations to provide an alternative to war for settling international disputes.

"On the Threshold" by Ed Gale in Los Angeles Times, Jan. 31, 1926

Senate approval came with reservations. Conditions stipulated in the Senate bill included requiring all World Court proceedings to be public, and that the U.S. should be a party to all cases having any effect on U.S. interests.

"Everything to Lose—Nothing to Gain" by Wm. A. Rogers in Washington Post, Jan. 27, 1926

William Hanny's cartoon at the top of today's post notwithstanding, opposition to U.S. participation in the World Court remained. William Rogers depicted the Court's other members outnumbering the U.S. in unified opposition. Only Uncle Sam has any chips on this poker table (they spell out "Monroe Doctrine" and "Independence").

"The Devil's Dish" by T.E. Powers for Star newspapers, ca. Jan. 26, 1926

Opposition by the "irreconcilables" crossed party lines: there were Republicans and Democrats against anything to do with the late Woodrow Wilson's League of Nations, whereas the Coolidge administration was in favor of joining the World Court.

T.E. Powers, drawing for Democrat-affiliated Hearst newspapers, discounted the Court as a warmed-over stew of intrigue, revenge, jealousy, and hate.

"Got Him At Last" by Sam Hunter in Toronto Star, Jan. 28, 1926

Drawing from a Canadian vantage point, Sam Hunter saw the Senate bringing a reluctant Uncle Sam at long last to justice.

"All Aboard" by Gustavo Bronstrup in San Francisco Chronicle, Jan. 28, 1926

But this Senate vote was not ratification of the treaty the U.S. had signed in Geneva. Those five reservations the Senate insisted upon were never resolved.

"Bitter Bitter Enders" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Jan. 31, 1926

In 1930, President Herbert Hoover would ask the Senate to ratify the Geneva treaty, only to have his request all but ignored. The Senate finally took up a ratification vote in 1935, during Franklin Roosevelt's first term as President. The vote in favor, 52 to 36, fell short of the two-thirds majority required.

The World Court was dissolved, along with other functions of the League of Nations, in 1945, and its duties turned over to the newly established International Court of Justice. The U.S. has been a member of the ICJ from the beginning, at least up to the present Lawless Trump Regime.

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Uncle Sam appears in six of today's seven editorial cartoons. Come back next week, when the Graphical History Tour follows up on a reader's question about another American symbol.

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.

Saturday at the Party with George

"To Be Alone — Be Great" by Hal Coffman for International Features Service, Feb. 22, 1925

If Hal Coffman's cartoon strikes you as an odd way to commemorate George Washington's birthday, yes, it is. 

So before anyone gets any bright ideas about including Napoleon Bonaparte in Felonious Trump’s Garden of Heroes, let me explain. 

February 22, 1925 fell on a Sunday, and in those days, the front page of the Sunday editorial section in every Hearst newspaper was topped by a cartoon illustration stretching all the way across the page illustrating a lengthy editorial-cum-sermon from corporate headquarters. Coffman's cartoon accompanied an essay that argued that Napoleon Bonaparte, George Washington, and Abraham Lincoln were all great-minded men, but that Napoleon lacked the modesty of the Americans and thus overstepped the limits of leadership.

Napoleon also differed from Washington and Lincoln by having his birthday in August.

"Where're You Going, Cal" by Wm. A. Ceperley in Davenport Democrat, Feb. 22, 1925

Washington's birthday is usually a time to compare and contrast our first President with the current occupant of the office. The comparison pretty much always favors Mr. Washington, although I fully expect today's Brancos and Varvels to echo Mr. Trump's egomaniacal self-aggrandizement.

Returning to 1925, I didn't run across any other editorial cartoonists joining William Ceperley in trash-drawing President Coolidge.

"The Cherry Tree Moral" by Jesse Taylor Cargill in Sacramento Bee, Feb. 21, 1925

The editorial cartoonists' go-to George Washington reference has long been the entirely apocryphal tale of not lying about chopping down his father's cherry tree. Drawing Washington saying "I cannot tell a lie" and a modern-day politician responding "I cannot tell the truth" dates at least as far back as the Nixon administration; subsequent cartoonists have added later presidents chiming in "I cannot tell the difference."

I'll bet there are a bunch of such cartoons today to balance the Varvels and Brancos.

"Washington, D.C. and the Cherry Tree" by Edward Gale in Los Angeles Times, Feb. 22, 1925

Speaking of whom, is this where they get their ideas?

"It's Strange How It Keeps On Sprouting After All These Years" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, Feb. 22, 1925

I found it interesting that several cartoonists in 1925 pictured chopping down the cherry tree in a positive light. Carey Orr at the vociferously isolationist Chicago Tribune laments the "foreign entanglements" that kept sprouting from the stump of "foreign alliances."

Everything old is new again again.

"The Cherry Tree Incident Up to Date" by T.E. Powers for Star Feature Syndicate, ca. Feb. 23, 1925

Continuing the motif of Everybody Hates Cherry Trees, T.E. Powers, whose modus operandi was to present readers with multiple choice of cartoons each day,  tosses in a couple other classic George Washington references besides the Cherry Tree Incident. If one idea didn't appeal to the reader, perhaps another one would.

The bottom two panels refer to President Coolidge getting the cabinet picks for his own full term through Congress (the Republican majority presented few obstacles, although there would be resistance to Coolidge's nominee for Attorney General), and a contemporary complaint that leftists wielded too much influence in children's education. 

"George W. Legislature" by Tom Foley in Minneapolis Daily Star, Feb. 23, 1925

Tom Foley used the cherry tree analogy to twit his Minnesota legislature for accomplishing so little "needed legislation."

That can't be a cherry tree, however. I don't think they are able to grow anywhere near that big.

"Hacking Away at It" by Grover Page in Louisville Courier-Journal, Feb. 22, 1925

That didn't stop Grover Page from drawing this cartoon, even while viewing the damage to his tree very differently than Tom Foley did his. What a relief to find a cartoon in which the tree didn't deserve to be chopped down!

It's not clear to me whether Page was arguing again against the proposed Child Labor Amendment to the Constitution (see here), or some other issue. Certainly the Eighteenth Amendment had been the work of "professional reformers"; but he might have wanted to depict more damage to the tree from an already ratified amendment.

"Why the Family didn't Get the Radio Program" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., ca. Feb. 21, 1925

So not all the editorial cartoonists reached for political topics that Sunday.

I have not discovered what specific radio program Dorman Smith might have had in mind when he drew the above cartoon. Coolidge's inauguration would be broadcast live on March 4, the first live broadcast of a presidential inauguration; but of course, that hadn't happened just yet.

According to a survey by the Sears-Roebuck Agricultural Broadcasting Stations WLS (Chicago) reported in the February 19, 1925 Indianapolis News, 33% of respondents listened to broadcast radio regularly. The most popular programs were classical music, followed closely by vocal music. After that came farm and home programs — not surprisingly, considering the survey base — and bringing up the rear, dramas, readings, and — again, no surprise — political speeches. 

"Not Skeptical But" by Chas Kuhn in Indianapolis News, Feb. 21, 1925

I don't know how common the practice was in 1925 of reading books by tossing them onto a nearby carpet. The fellow in Charles Kuhn's cartoon may have been far-sighted, I suppose.

In any case, the font of the book's text was large enough for Kuhn's readers to make out; but in case it's too small for you, it says "Washington never told a lie." 

"How Proud He Must Be of Some of His Children" by William Hanny in Philadelphia Inquirer, Feb. 22, 1925

I don't know what it is that editorial cartoonists of 1925 had against crossword puzzles, but virtually all of them kept throwing shade at them.

Hairstyles of the Rich and Infamous

Every editorial cartoonist was expected to crank out cartoons about the solar eclipse and the passing of Orenthal James Simpson this week, most of which were slight variations on the same couple of themes. If you saw one, you'd seen the rest.

Other "Yahtzees," as we call them, often happen after truly major news stories that cannot be ignored.

And then there's...

"The Great National Question" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 9, 1924

For some reason, 100 Aprils ago, editorial cartoonists across the country took to their drawing boards to address the burning issue of women's bobbed haircuts.

"If They Had Worn Bobbed Hair" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, April 5, 1924

The bobbed hairstyle was that short women's haircut forever associated with 1920's flappers and starlets (e.g. Betty Boop, Josephine Baker, Mary Pickford). It was a marked departure from earlier generations, when the feminine ideal required lots and lots of luscious tresses piled on top of a woman's head or draped over her shoulders.

Why do you bob your hair, girls? It is an awful shame
To rob the head God gave you and bear the flapper's name.
You're taking off your cov'ring. It is an awful sin.
Don't never bob your hair, girls. Short hair belongs to men.
 —"Why Do You Bob Your Hair, Girls" by Blind Alfred Reed, 1927

"You're Just the Person I Want to See" by Ralph Barton in Judge, April 19, 1924

Creation of the bobbed hairstyle is generally credited to a popular actress, dancer, and social influencer of her day who went by the stage name Irene Castle. Hospitalized for appendicitis in 1914, she decided that to facilitate washing and combing her hair during her recuperation, she would simply have it cut short.

When she then went out for dinner with friends without covering her ’do, her picture wound up in all the papers. In a time when women's rights advocates were fighting for the right to vote, suffragette sympathizers applauded Castle's rebellion against tradition and impractical hairstyles for women.

"And So She Had Hers Bobbed" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, April 21, 1924

It wasn't only the length of the hair that was disturbing to the Bert Dears of the 1920's. The new bobbed style shockingly exposed women's ... ears. Uncovered ears were as associated with masculinity as was wearing pants. Even in these cartoons about minimist hairdos, only a couple of them expose the female ear.

Liberation of the female ear did open up new opportunities for the jewelry trade. Nor was the market for combs and hairbrushes at all diminished.

"Our Next Circus Attraction" by Tom Foley in Minneapolis Daily Star, April 9, 1924

In any event, in the ten years after Irene Castle's abdominal surgery, the bobbed hairstyle took U.S. womanhood by storm. It was convenient, requiring less muss and fuss, and easier to keep styled over the course of a day.

I'm sure that our cartoonists found it easier and quicker to draw as well.

"Fancy Trade First" by Albert T. Reid for Bell Syndicate, April 1, 1924

I did find one cartoon that tied the bobbed haircut theme — more or less — to bona fide news stories of the day. Albert Reid uses the bobbing craze to complain that Congress was spending too much time investigating all those scandals left over from the Harding administration, at the expense of popular legislation languishing in committee (in this case, President Coolidge's tax cut proposal).

A likely motivation for at least some of this flurry of bobbed-hair cartoons is the case of the Bobbed-Haired Bandit.

Excerpt from "I See by the Papers" by T.E. Powers for Star Company, ca. April 1, 1924

Celia and Ed Cooney, a young couple married the previous May, started robbing Brooklyn area grocers and drug stores in January of 1924. Newspapers eager to outsell their crosstown rivals seized on crime stories to make banner headlines in those days, and the Cooneys' string of audacious armed robberies immediately attracted the hungry attention of editors from New York to Los Angeles. The New York Telegram and Evening Mail dubbed Celia, 19, "The Bobbed Haired Bandit," and the moniker stuck.

Celia reveled in her notoriety, and as the string of robberies continued, the newspapers held Brooklyn Police Commissioner Richard Enright up for ridicule.

On January 14, Commissioner Enright announced the arrest of one Helen Quigley on suspicion of being the Bobbed Haired Bandit. Celia then left a message at a Brooklyn drugstore, boasting, "You dirty fish-peddling bums, leave this innocent girl alone and get the right ones, which is nobody else but us, and we are going to give Mr. Hogan, the manager of Roulston’s, another visit, as we got two checks we couldn’t cash, and also ask Bohack’s manager did I ruin his cash register. Also I will visit him again, as I broke a perfectly good automatic on it. We defy you fellows to catch us."

"Bobbed-Haired Bandits at Home" by Elmer Bushnell for Central Press Assn., ca. April 19, 1924

And their crime spree continued into February and March.

On April 1, the pair botched an attempted robbery of the National Biscuit Company's payroll office. Cashier Nathan Mazo made a grab for Celia, who fell over a chair. Ed shot and wounded Mazo, and the couple fled without the money. They hopped a steamer to Florida, where Celia gave birth to a daughter who died after two days.

On April 15, Commissioner Enright correctly announced the identity of the elusive pair, who were arrested by New York detectives in Jacksonville in the wee hours of April 21. Hundreds thronged to Penn Station to catch a glimpse of the two. 

New York Daily News front page April 23, 1924. Celia Cooney is identified by name, Ed merely as "her husband."

After their arrest, Brooklyn Daily Eagle columnist Nunnally Johnson rhapsodized:

"What Celia Cooney deserves is a ballad, a glorious painting, or a statue, preferably in Prospect Park. ...

"Celia Cooney in a few years will be a legendary figure, a part of Brooklyn folklore, a glamorous myth in a world of girls striving to reach the present height of feminine endeavor..."

Instead, the Cooneys pleaded guilty to their crimes and were sentenced to 20 years in prison, but were  released on parole after seven. Ed died in 1936; Celia remarried in 1943. Only after her death in 1992 did her sons Patrick and Edward Jr. learn of their parents' criminal past.

Happy Valentoons Day

Our Graphical History Tour has been wrapped up in scandal and death lately, so it's time to lighten up a little bit. Let's check out what love notes the cartoonists had in store for their readers on Valentine's Day 100 years ago, when my grandparents were newlyweds!

"St. Valentine's Day" by A.G. Racey in Montreal Gazette, Feb. 14, 1924

And fortunately for me, they all abstained from the jakeloo new divorce craze sweeping their generation.

"To Our Valentines" by Rube Goldberg for McNaught Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

I don't know what 1920's-ese is for "snark," but Rube Goldberg has plenty of it in his Valentine. It is, however, a wonderful study in fashion styles of the time.

I tried looking up the phrase "the alligator's vest," coming up mostly with advertisements for actual alligator-skin vests, and a zillion posts of the following Dad Joke:

Q. What do you call an alligator in a vest?
A. An investigator!

Let us now get back to the topic at hand. Quickly.

"A Few Valentines We'd Like to Deliver" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., Feb. 14, 1924

Good gosh, such violence! Smith's was not the only "Outbursts of Everett True" sort of Valentines Day cartoon I came across while gathering today's assortment. What on earth had these cartoonists so cranky? Was this really what Valentines Day was all about in the heart of the Roaring '20's?

"The Leap Year Valentine" by Charles H. Kuhn in Indianapolis News, Feb. 14, 1924

American editorial cartoonists must have used up their Sadie Hawkins ideas earlier in the year (see John McCutcheon's and Sam Armstrong's cartoons back in January); Chas. Kuhn's valentine for Mr. Voter from Miss Presidential Year Politics is the sole example I ran across published on February 14 that year.

"Those Coolidge Valentines" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, Feb. 14, 1924

Carey Orr crams a front-page's worth of headline news into his Valentine's Day offering, from Teapot Dome and tax cuts and federal farm aid to dunning European nations in debt to the U.S.

"A Valentine" by Thomas E. Powers for Star Company, Feb. 14, 1924

But enough of politics! Valentine's Day is a day for l'amour (And a famous massacre, but not for a few years yet.)

"Somebody's Valentine" by Magnus Kettner for Western Newspaper Union, Feb. 14, 1924

Leaving politics, scandals, vamps, and divorces behind, many of the Valentines Day cartoons in 1924 celebrated the early pangs of love experienced by pre-teen lotharios. We lead off with the most straight-forward of the bunch, by Magnus Kettner, a well-established cartoonist who supplied his syndicate's mostly rural papers with a choice of political cartoons and homey, nostalgic stuff as this. 

By the way, how strange that Kettner didn't finish drawing the house in the background — only the overhang continues to the right of that tree!

"A St. Valentine's Day We'll Never Forget" by Bob Satterfield for Bonnet Brown Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

Bob Satterfield's work used to appear regularly in these century retrospectives when he drew editorial cartoons; but 1924, he was focusing instead on gag cartoons and strips. The above cartoon was part of his "Days We'll Never Forget" series for Bonnet Brown Syndicate. Before long, he dropped the panel in favor of a strip, "The Family Next Door," which lasted less than two years. 

Bonnet Brown Syndicate would be a casualty of the Great Depression, going bankrupt and out of business in 1933.

"Life's Darkest Moment" by Harold T. Webster for New York Tribune Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

H.T. Webster was considerably more successful with (and dedicated to) his series of panel cartoons, which regularly cycled the themes "Life's Darkest Moment," "The Thrill That Comes Once in a Lifetime," "How to Torture Your Wife/Husband," and "The Timid Soul." For that last one, he created the character Caspar Milquetoast, who was spun off into a very early television series and whose surname entered the English vernacular.

"Gee Whiz Junior" by William Holman for New York Tribune Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

Here's something that has been missing from the last several cartoons: the object of Gee Whiz Jr.'s affection actually has a name!

"Gee Whiz Junior" was one of Bill Holman's many short-lived attempts at creating a comic strip before he eventually hit the big time with Smokey Stover (1935-1972). You young whippersnappers may never have heard of Smokey Stover, but some of you might appreciate that he was the OG Foo Fighter.

I did want to make sure to include the woman's point of view today. Failing to find Valentines Day cartoons by Fay King or Juanita Hamel, here's a woman's point of view of a little boy's point of view:

"'Cap' Stubbs" by Edwina Dumm for George Matthew Adams Service, Feb. 14, 1924

Sticking with the women but returning to the adults' table, Nell Brinkley ends up more interested in expressing some fella's viewpoint than a woman's:

"His Saint Valentine" by Nell Brinkley for International Feature Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

"Saint Valentine was a gentleman," Brinkley begins, "a venerable man, in those gone days when bright St. Valentine's Day used to be taken so seriously that men did battle under their loves' windows... But Bill's Saint of Valentine's Day is a girl. ...

"'I don't believe in men-angels, anyway,' says Bill, as he ties to his offering of dark, fragrant, purple violets, his name with his love and his hope. 'Angels are girls. I know my Saint Valentine is a girl — all girl.'"

"Pop" by Gaar Williams in Chicago Tribune, Feb. 14, 1924

And just like that, we're back to the menfolk. Perhaps this anxious fellow in Gaar Williams's cartoon explains why some of the cartoonists at the top of today's post were in such a foul mood over the holiday.

"Gasoline Alley" by Frank King for Chicago Tribune Syndicate, Feb. 14, 1924

Finally, of special note to classic cartoon fans, Valentines Day 1921 was the day that infant Skeezix was left on Walt Wallet's doorstep, creating a family saga out of a strip that up to then had been entirely devoted to men and their jalopies. Over the years, Skeezix grew up, married, and had children and grandchildren of his own.

Because of the forced homogenization of newspaper comic pages by Gannett, McClatchy, Lee, and the other (aptly named) chains, you probably can't find "Gasoline Alley" in your local newspaper — even the Chicago Tribune doesn't run it any more — but 103-year-old Skeezix and 130-ish Walt are still out there on line.