Saturday, April 12, 2014

 

Herriman Saturday


Wednesday, June 10 1908 -- Los Angeles is still buzzing over the recent visit by world-renowned 'pedestrian', Edward Payson Watson.

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Friday, April 11, 2014

 

Sci-Friday starring Connie

Connie, October 25 1936, courtesy of Cole Johnson. Follow the Connie story every Friday here on Stripper's Guide.

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Thursday, April 10, 2014

 

News of Yore: McKee Barclay, Cartoonist


The Inland Printer
May 1906
By Strickland W. Gillian

Every citizen of Baltimore who in the afternoon rides on a street-car or stands on a corner waiting for one, who has an idle moment in his shop, or in some one else’s shop, waiting to be waited on — every mother's son and daughter and every aunt’s nephew and niece of them — is possessed of a copy of the Baltimore News, or is rubbering over the shoulder of some one who has a copy of that sheet. And the first thing any of those proud possessors or humble rubberers does is to see “what’s Barclay got to-day?”

The last page of the Baltimore News contains every day a cartoon, with the signature of that gentleman, and in nine cases out of nine the cartoon contains an idea portrayed with the odd combination of subtlety and clearness — subtlety to please the keenest and clearness to strike the most obtuse between the eyes. The idea is usually unique in its conception, yet so palpable when once it is exploited in Barclay's bold, yet artistic lines, that the beholder involuntarily exclaims to himself: “Well, I’ll be dogged! Why couldn’t I have thought of that?” And the paragraph, poem or picture that so impresses humanity is the ideal in its specific line. It has hit the universal, and that means success.

The peculiar geographical position of Baltimore makes her newspaper men labor under such restriction as no other city of Baltimore's size anywhere has known. The men who work in this field must do so with a constant knowledge that their work is for the local field primarily and that only extraordinary brilliancy or a particularly universal hit can ever hope to reach the garish day of wider publicity. Under this handicap, Mr. Barclay works with zeal, filling his niche to overflowing and giving to the people of Baltimore a service second to none in the entire country. His cartoons do, in the most satisfactory manner, everything a cartoon was ever intended to do. His pictures are editorials with the weight of the leader and the pungency of the paragraph. They speak for themselves, and so great is their merit that they are copied far and wide throughout the country.

Like all good cartoonists, Barclay, has a personality that has even the best of his published work beaten many many city blocks. And to know the best and most delightful of him one has to know him, with his quaintness and his keenness. Every sentence is a cartoon visible as well as audible. He is a humorist of the finest, truest type, and can write as cleverly as he draws.

Here is a Bordenized ante-mortem obituary of him: He was bred in old Kentucky. First endowed with his services the Princeton (Ky.) Weekly Banner, in whose office he up-ended the elusive types occasionally making a woodcut on white pine. None of these first cuts is in the Congressional Library collection, so it's no use to look there for them. Being entirely impartial, he amputated himself gently but firmly from the Banner and tackled his first daily job on the Paducah Standard, as solicitor, making free-hand drawings of the names of people who wanted to subscribe or advertise. Occasionally when some one hadn't treated him right he would have revenge by making alleged likenesses of the offender — he having then fallen upon the Hoke chalk-plate method. After the publication of one of these the offender either suicided or reformed.

Went to the Louisville Times and Courier-Journal in ’87 and in ’88 to the Montgomery Dispatch, where he made chalk-plate pictures again—couldn’t stop him—and stereotyped them himself in a casting-box of a special pattern, made for himself by himself. Sawing them out with a cross-cut saw without the aid of a vise (Mr. Barclay is even yet free from vices), he guessed the width and sometimes came within an em or so of a column or two-column size when he was lucky or “had his eye with him.”

The paper got into financial difficulties and Barclay, though the paper could stand for the cuts he had made, couldn’t stand for the ones they made in his salary. The paper failed to square up any better than the engraver's eye-measured cuts. Then the artist borrowed enough money to take him for a visit to his nearest relatives, at Bowling Green, Kentucky, with whom he stood a good prospect of making an extended visit. To his surprise an enterprising man with a daily paper—Col. John B. Gaines, of the Park City Times—gave him a place the very next day after he had landed, and before he had had a chance to spend even half of the $1.75 with which he had lit. Later he ran an illustrated weekly with Euclid C. Cooksey, at Bowling Green. The weekly caricatured and roasted with all the zeal of the tyro proprietor everywhere, until it became distinctly visible that the sheet could support but one person. Then Barclay sold out his interest to Cooksey, having a balance of $19.75 after paying all debts—“the record for all time for all men who ever ran a weekly,” says Barclay seriously.

Next he went to North Carolina, where he was draftsman in an architect's office, running an engraving plant at his nooning hour, making all chalk-plate work and farming out the rest of it to a Philadelphia firm. In April, 1891, he went to Baltimore and worked one year for the World as an artist, reporter and telegraph editor. Tiring of this life of leisure, he went to the Herald of the same city, as reporter, until a self-illustrated Sunday story attracted the attention of the then managing editor, A. B. Cunningham, when he was put on Sunday specials. Then like Mr. Finney’s turnip, he grew and he grew. The Baltimore News made him an offer to do general illustrating, but that paper was in the midst of its Gorman-Rasin fight, so nothing was more natural than that Barclay’s cleverness should enlist itself in the form of effective, straight-from-the-shoulder cartoons. And didn’t he enjoy it—the work for which he was made! He calls it drifting, as we all do when the inevitable current of our life sweeps us into something. Since that time most of his work has been for the News. Once he went to New York, with his News job held open for him. He soon decided that distance lent enchantment to the Gotham field, and put himself a whole lot more than “forty-five minutes from Broadway.” In 1900 he went to St. Louis and stayed a busy year as editor of the comic supplement and manager of art and engraving departments for the Star. He persuaded this paper to syndicate its supplement on a large scale and made it possible profitably to do so, by means of a labor-saving color device of Barclays’s own. In 1901 he came back to the Baltimore News, in response to an offer, and, as he says, “I am on the third floor with a good north light, still.”

He does a great deal of book illustrating, etc., outside of his regular cartoon work, for he is an indefatigable plugger, never hurrying, but turning out an incredible amount of excellent work. Cartoonists can not be compared, but there are no better than McKee Barclay.

Like most of the other really successful fellows, he has a wife and family that any sane man would be proud of, and Barclay is sane to the thirty-third degree. His brother Tom 9art signature, “Tom Bee”) does excellent cartoon work and comics in a decidedly individual line, also doing legitimate illustrating and caricatures of high standard.

McKee is struggling beneath the advanced age of thirty-six years, and his best work is yet in his rosy-hued future.

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Wednesday, April 09, 2014

 

Obscurity of the Day: The Culludville Alphabet




McKee Barclay was a highly respected editorial cartoonist whose cartooning career spanned thirty years or more (1890s-1920s+), most notably with the Baltimore Sun.

What possessed him in 1901 to branch out into comic strips I don't know, but we can only wish he'd resisted the urge. Barclay's only known continuing comic series is The Culludville Alphabet (or sometimes Coloredville Alphabet), a thoroughly racist bit of illustrated doggerel for which no apologies can be made. The series ran from February 10 to March 17 1901, in the St. Louis Star's comic section.

Looking for something, anything, positive to say about this, I will point out the use of a piece of interesting period slang. I had no idea that a snipe was a partially smoked cigarette.

Speaking of terminology, does anyone know what the term is, or if there is a term, for a poem in which the letters of the alphabet begin each line? We see this often in early comic strips, and of course in children's elementary spelling books, and I imagine there's a term for it, but I can't come up with it.

Thanks to Cole Johnson for the sample strips!

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"Guttersnipe" shares the same root I believe: it used to describe someone who would scan gutters by the curb for partially consumed cigars and cigarettes to get a free smoke from what was left.
 
I Googled the words "Alphabet Poem" to see if I could find what they're called; apparently they're called "Alphabet Poems." Makes sense.

I also find it interesting that his entry for "N" acknowledges that Blacks don't like to be called that word any more. My father told me that when he was rowing up in 1920s Connecticut, he heard adults use that word all the time--not in anger, but in a matter-of-fact way, as though that were the correct term. He said, "No one ever told us that it was a bad word or that we shouldn't say it." I wonder when it became a widespread taboo?
 
"Growing up" not "rowing up." I always spot these goofs AFTER I post.
 
The large initial letter, in this case, is a drop cap because it drops down from the first line. A stick-up cap would start on the first line and be larger than any capital letter. And there is the hybrid which can do both.
 
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Tuesday, April 08, 2014

 

Ink-Slinger Profiles by Alex Jay: Charles H. Wellington


Charles Hewitt “Duke” Wellington was born at Edore Central Township, St. Louis County, Missouri on January 13, 1884, according to the Missouri Birth Records and his World War I draft card at Ancestry.com. His parents were James, a commercial traveler, and Josephine, whose maiden name was Hewitt.

Wellington’s father died before the enumeration of the 1900 U.S. Federal Census, which said his mother operated a boarding house in St. Louis at 3863 Washington Boulevard. She also cared for her parents, Charly and Carrie Hewitt. Wellington was not recorded there, but, according to Edan Hughes’ Artists in California, 1786-1940, “Wellington was educated at Smith Academy in his native city and at Washington University.” The 1901 St. Louis City Directory listed Wellington as a student who resided at 3863 Washington Boulevard.

Without citing any sources, the World Encyclopedia of Comics said: ”Wellington’s first published work appeared in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and St. Louis Republic. He accepted, in 1908, an offer to draw for the Memphis News-Scimitar and later moved to Nashville for a six-month stint on the Tennessean.”

The 1903 St. Louis City Directory listed Wellington and his mother at 522 North Newstead Avenue. He was an artist for the Post Dispatch. The 1907 Memphis City Directory had listings for Wellington and his mother at 908 East McLemore Avenue. His occupation was artist, News Scimitar. The New York Times, April 2, 1942, said he was a cartoonist on the Memphis Commercial Appeal.

A photograph of Wellington and other cartoonists appeared in the comic section of the St. Louis Star-Chronicle, June 18, 1905 (below).





The exact date of Wellington’s move to New York City is not known. His first New York comic was Up-to-Date Fairy Tales for the the New York Evening World. It ran twice, on September 11 and 14, 1908. Hearst’s Evening Journal took him into their fold. Some of the Hearst strips include: The Gimlet Club (1909–1910), There’s a Reason (1909–1910), Why All Men Are Not Married (1909), and For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow (1910).




The Bookman, April 1910, said Wellington got his idea for There’s a Reason after reading an advertisement for Grape Nuts.


Wellington has not been found in the 1910 census. For Heart’s Newspaper Feature Service, Wellington produced the long-running, Pa’s Son-in-Law (1913–1915). His listing in the 1916 New York City Directory was: “artist Newspaper Feature Service 35 W 39th.” In the artists category his business address was: “41 Park row 507.”

He signed his World War I draft card on September 12, 1918. His address was the Friar's Club, West 48th Street, and occupation was cartooning for the Newspaper Feature Service. His description was medium height, slender build, and brown eyes.

Wellington has not been found in the 1920 census. Artists in California said he moved to California around 1925. The 1928 San Fernando City Directory listing said the cartoonist lived with his wife, Emily, at 9920 Toluca Lake Avenue.

In the 1930 census, the couple lived in Los Angeles, California at 9920 Toluca Lake Avenue. They had married in 1919. His occupation was cartoonist for the New York Tribune.

Wellington’s address and occupation remained the same in the 1940 census, which said he completed four years of college.

Wellington passed away April 1, 1942 at home. The Newport Mercury and Weekly News (Rhode Island) reported his death two days later.

Charles H. Wellington, 56, creator of the comic strip, “Pa’s Son-In-Law, ” which ran in the Daily News for years until recently, died at his home, North Hollywood, Cal., Wednesday. He created the strip, which was one of the most popular of the cartoons, in 1914. The daily strip, which ran in the Daily News from the New York Herald Tribune, was discontinued because of Mr. Wellington’s recent illness, although he continued his Sunday feature. Surviving are his wife and his mother.

—Alex Jay

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Monday, April 07, 2014

 

Obscurity of the Day: Why Is It


Charles Wellington, one of the great cartoonists of the 1900-10s in my opinion, was so delightful with these small panel features that I wish he had never found his lasting success with a strip, Pa's Son-In-Law. His strips just don't seem to allow for the same sort of keen observational humor I enjoy so much in Why Is It, There's A Reason, And The Worst Is Yet To Come, and others.Why Is It was sometimes a strip, but of course I like the panels better, hence our sample.

Why Is It is one of Wellington's earlier efforts -- in my very limited batch of samples it seems to have begun and ended in late 1906. The syndicate was uncredited, but it seems a reasonable assumption that it was World Color Printing. In fact, World Color Printing reprinted Why Is It on their weekly black and white pages of 1919.

This sample panel is timely if you happen to live in my area. The city of Leesburg, in an attempt to support the self-reliant type of folks, has just passed an ordinance than you can keep up to fifteen chickens in the yard of your in-town home. I presume roosters are strictly verboten, but even hens can make a bit of a ruckus when they get in a dither. I applaud the idea of residents keeping chickens for the free eggs, though. I'd keep them myself if it didn't tie you down to being around every day to feed and water them.

And speaking of chickens, I wonder when the sound they make was standardized as 'cluck, cluck'? Wellington's 'cut-cut' take on their sound is probably more true to life, though. 

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Sunday, April 06, 2014

 

Jim Ivey's Sunday Comics


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