Happy Dyscentennial, Everybody

"Centennial Mirror" by American Oleograph Co., 1876. From Library of Congress 

I don't have a cartoon for the U.S. semicentennial in 1826, which the nation celebrated by killing off John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, so let's start our Graphical History Tour of Multimodiennial July Fourths with this political cartoon from the centennial year of 1876.

"Donkeys at the Centennial" by Frank Bellew in Harper's Weekly, New York, July 1, 1876

There must have been more celebratory cartoons about the U.S. turning 100, but Harper's Weekly's sole contribution that week was all about Democrats criticizing, I believe, the Centennial International Exhibition of Arts, Manufactures, and Products of the Soil and Mine. 

President Ulysses S. Grant opened the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia on May 10, 1876, where it ran for the next six months. U.S. exhibits included entries from 21 states on all topics covered by its official name, as well as on Native American heritage and the rights (such as they were) of women and the abolition of slavery. That last exhibit must have rankled southern Democrats and their sympathizers in the North.

If that wasn't the inspiration for Frank Bellew's cartoon, perhaps it had to do with Edward Mitchell Bannister's painting Under the Oaks, which was awarded first prize at the Exhibition until he arrived to accept the honor and the judges discovered that Bannister was Black. Only vehement protest by Bannister's fellow artists kept the judges from revoking their decision.

"The Centennial Transfer" in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, New York, May 17, 1876

This cartoon from a critic of Grant's Republican administration probably took some of its inspiration from scandals in the Interior and War Departments exposed by investigations conducted by the Democratic majority in the House. 

General Joseph R. Hawley, a Republican politician from Connecticut, was president of the United States Centennial Commission. John Welsh was the president of the Centennial Board of Finance. In the cartoon, Welsh and Hawley present President Grant with the Centennial Exhibition building, and the insinuation is that Grant was not in control of graft and fraud in his cabinet.

The cartoon bore no signature, so I can't be certain whether it was the work of  Matt Morgan, Joseph Keppler, or some other Leslie's cartoonist.

1926

"Onward the Nation Goes Conquering the Heights" by Gustavo Bronstrup in San Francisco Chronicle, July 5, 1926

A while back, our Graphical History Tour observed the rise and fall of Miss Columbia as a symbol of the United States. She was still around to celebrate the nation's sesquicentennial in 1926, at least on the drawing boards of cartoonists old enough to remember the centennial.

As in 1876, the nation's premier party was in Philadelphia, hosting a World's Fair from May 31 to November 30. Controversy — including lawsuits and fines levied against workers — arose from having the fair open on July 4, because it was a Sunday: "Blue" laws forbade non-essential business from operating on the Lord's Day.

The Sesquicentennial International Exposition opened anyway.

The Brooklyn Daily Eagle noted "That the sesquicentennial of our independence should fall on a Sunday adds to the impressiveness of the anniversary. This holiday will doubtless be not only safe and sane, but more than usually solemn. A degree of solemnity will not be out of place... "

"The Forty-Eight Stars of Liberty" by Wm. A. Rogers in Washington Post, July 4, 1926

John Adams had written that Independence Day (by which he meant July 2) should be commemorated "by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty..."

"Ding" Darling, however, who was born in 1876, predicted that not everybody would appreciate a degree of solemnity just because the Fourth fell on the Lord's Day in his fiftieth year.

"Celebrating the Right to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness..." by J.N. "Ding" Darling in Des Moines Register, July 4, 1926

Of course, John Adams also called for "pomp and parades, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from time forward forevermore."

Boys — and occasionally men — celebrating life, liberty, and the pursuit of bodily injury with  firecrackers was a longstanding staple of Independence Day editorial cartoons. So we'll let Mr. Darling's entry stand for all the other cherry bomb toons for this particular year.

"Quite a Husky Kid for His Age" by Dorman H. Smith for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., ca. July 3, 1926

The United States often thought of itself, and been regarded by the major European powers, as a youngster among nations. By 1926, however, there were younger eastern European and near Asian countries that emerged from the rubble of World War I. 

One could interpret Dorman Smith's cartoon to suggest that the U.S. was starting to get too big for its britches; maybe he was hinting that it was time for the kid to graduate into some big boy pants.

"There's a Tie That Binds Us Still" by J.P. Alley in Commercial Appeal, Memphis, July 4, 1926

If Dorman Smith had Mother Earth happy for America's birthday, J.P. Alley focuses on one foreign nation, citing the improvement in American relations with our erstwhile colonial master since our break-up. 

Editorial cartoonists being a rather cantankerous sort, there were some political jabs on certain editorial pages that July 4.

"The Bad, Old-Fashioned Fourth" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 4, 1926

Okay, just one more cartoon of things going bang bang. Nelson Harding brings up congressional hearings on the millions of dollars being poured into primary election races for statehouse and the U.S. Senate that spring. 

The other night, I heard Ali Velshi state that the fight to control campaign spending has been going on for half a century. This cartoon demonstrates that the fight has been going on at least twice as long.

"Re-Declaring Our Independence" by O.C. Chopin in San Francisco Examiner, July 5, 1926

Oscar Chopin used the holiday to reiterate his faith in isolationism, shared by many Republicans and the Hearst newspapers for which he drew.

This cartoon looks an awful lot like the template used for a cartoon of his we visited four years ago.

"The Sesqui Centennial in Cartoons" by Marvin P. "Hay" Bales in Daily Worker, Chicago, July 3, 1926

Communist labor cartoonist Hay Bales offered this sour history of the United States for the nation's sesquicentennial.

In his telling, the North won the Civil War because of its advantage in industrial and financial capital, resulting in a centralized federal government. He termed the Spanish-American War "the first military move of the U.S. in the field of imperialist conquest" (Mexico and Native American nations might beg to differ); he attributed U.S. entry into World War I to the same motivation.

1976

by Ranan Lurie for Los Angeles Times, ca. July 3, 1976

Jumping ahead another fifty years, Miss Columbia had been replaced on American drawing boards by the Statue of Liberty (a trend already begun by 1926).

by Tony Auth in Philadelphia Inquirer, July 4, 1976

The U.S. Bicentennial was greeted with an explosion of clip art, per Tony Auth and Frank Interlandi.

"Happy Birthday, America" by Frank Interlandi in Los Angeles Times, July 4, 1976

As well as explosions of the pyrotechnical ooh and ahh variety.

"I Hope They Know How Lucky They Are" by Douglas Borgstedt for Copley News Service, July 4, 1976

Douglas Borgstedt used the holiday to highlight the difference in liberty in the United States and in the Eastern Bloc nations controlled by Moscow.

by Dwayne Powell in Raleigh Times & Observer, July 4, 1976

May I say that it's nice to see that, with all these cartoons starring George Washington, Abe Lincoln, Ben Franklin, Miss Columbia, Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty, and the Bald Eagle, someone finally remembered to give Thomas Jefferson some credit for the Declaration of Independence.

Incidentally, you may have noticed the absence from these cartoons from 1926 and 1976 of the president in office at the time. Hay Bales included Woodrow Wilson in his sesquicentennial cartoon, but the man had been dead for two years, and was no hero of the radical movement besides. 

But while Ulysses S. Grant, Calvin Coolidge, and Gerald Ford certainly participated in special Independence Day celebrations, they in no way turned them into spectacles of personal self-aggrandizement.

Those of us who experienced the Bicentennial have regrets that the spirit of coming together in celebration then is not what we are witnessing now. To a certain extent, that's because we were young then and now we're not. A recent Christian Science Monitor column, "Can a Divided U.S. Celebrate Its 250th Together?" tried to sum up the tenor of the time:

Back then, the nation also felt fractious, stressed, and war-weary, says Marc Stein, a historian at San Francisco State University and author of “Bicentennial: A Revolutionary History of the 1970s.” Crime was up. Energy prices were high. New York City, the flotilla’s host, had become a byword for urban dysfunction and debt. Some questioned whether it was even safe for Operation Sail.

President Gerald Ford, who had assumed office in 1974 after Richard Nixon resigned over Watergate, was among those who “hoped to use the bicentennial to ‘turn the page’ and ‘begin a new chapter’ with a patriotic and unifying celebration,” says Professor Stein via email. They largely succeeded, and many still remember the parties and parades held across the country.

"When in the Course of Current Events" by Paul Conrad in Los Angeles Times, July 4, 1976

Let's not pretend, however, that the Bicentennial occurred during an unadulterated Era of Good Feeling. If there were editorial cartoons to spoil the party in 1926, there were a few of the same in 1976. Paul Conrad pointed out that there were still Americans seeking a "more perfect union": immigrant workers, laborers, women, Blacks, and Native Americans.

"Birthday Hangover" by Frank in Pittsburgh Courier, July 10, 1976

This cartoonist enumerated a number of Black Americans' complaints in the aftermath of the Bicentennial, including our since forgotten backing of an anticommunist militia battling for control of Angola after its independence from Portugal in 1975, and governmental tolerance of the apartheid regime in South Africa.

Conservatives found reason to grouse, too:

Eugene Payne on WSOC-TV, Charlotte NC, ca. July, 1976

I'm guessing that Eugene Payne's cartoon was in color on TV, but unfortunately, I don't have a screenshot of it.

Jerry Falwell had not yet founded his Moral Majority political action machine, but a backlash was growing against the trend toward permissiveness, civil liberties, and pluralism of the previous decade. In a few years, it would gel into a partisan force empowering the Republican Party, even after its preachers were exposed as hypocrites for their enthusiastic support of the present completely amoral GOP standard bearer.

But that's a topic for...

2026

"American Colosseum" by Howard McWilliam in The Week, June 12, 2026

I won't be surprised to see a few celebratory editorial cartoons show up today, but I think the sub-head on this recent cover of The Week accurately sums up how most of us feel about the nation's semiquincentennial. Joel Pett had a cartoon this week that expresses my sentiments perfectly.

It's not just us woke liberal dummocrats, either; The Week's June 12 edition paraphrases some conservatives' opinions:

"America's 250th birthday party 'won't be much of a celebration at all.'" ― Jeffrey Blehar, National Review

"Gladiatorial combat is just one way Trump has turned our national birthday into 'a royalist celebration of himself.'... Trump has 'made a pitiful shambles of what should have been a glorious moment.'" ― David Frum, The Atlantic

"Rather than be demoralized by Trump's effort to hijack our holiday, we can view this July 4 as an opportunity for a renewed dedication to the real meaning of Independence Day. We can look away from Trump's sad simulacrum of kingly spectacles in Washington, D.C." ―William Kristol, The Bulwark

2076

To those of you who will be around to celebrate the Tricentennial: first of all, I hope that there is one. I hope that it finds you during more harmonious times.

Mind you, "more harmonious," like "a more perfect union," is in the eye of the beholder.

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.

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.

✍

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.