Showing posts with label Sam Cobean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam Cobean. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2026

Sam Cobean: A Golf Shot

A work of original New Yorker art by Sam Cobean was sold yesterday at Heritage Auctions:

Sam Cobean
Original art
The New Yorker,
 June 11, 1949, p. 20

A word about golf rules might be helpful here. Tree roots are a part of the golf course so if one's golf ball lands there, one plays it as it lies. In golf terms, there is no free relief.

On February 16, the presale bidding stood at $575, or $718.75 with the buyer's premium.

This is a very strong Cobean cartoon and a good golf cartoon to boot. The market bid it up accordingly. The lot was sold to an internet bidder for twice what the price had been on the 16th.
Sam Cobean
Heritage Auctions listing of February 18, 2026




Sam Cobean
Heritage Auctions item description


Heritage erroneously gives the date of the cartoon's publication in The New Yorker as June 7, 1952. This is off by some three years. A Leslie Starke cartoon in the same Heritage sale appeared in that issue instead. Whoops.

Cobean's golf drawing in reproduction looks very much like his original art.
Sam Cobean
The New Yorker, June 11, 1949, p. 20

Sam Cobean
Original art
The New Yorker,
 June 11, 1949, p. 20


With cartoons by Sam Cobean and Alan Dunn


* * *

On the page opposite, The New Yorker has placed a drawing with much shading to balance out Cobean's lines. Alan Dunn has some fun showing us an unforeseen attitude toward labor among one of the elite in Communist Russia—one who is permitted to travel abroad.
"What a deal out there, what a deal! Houseboys! Coolies! Anything
you want, just snap your fingers."

Alan Dunn
The New Yorker, June 11, 1949, p. 21



Note:  Sam Cobean's art doesn't get seen on this blog nearly enough, so readers who would like to share their hidden Cobean treasures here should, well, play it as it lies.


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Tuesday, April 11, 2023

Charles Addams, Sam Cobean, and Syd Hoff: Cole of California Promotional Trays by Bernäd Creations

Joel Jacobus is extremely knowledgable about Charles Addams merchandise and memorabilia. Today he inquires about an obscure subject that has been troubling him for years: "old enameled copper dishes bearing commissioned advertising art by New Yorker cartoonists. Where did these come from?"

Joel continues:

About fifteen years ago I saw an eBay listing for an old looking, small, enameled, copper dish with a Charles Addams drawing on it that might be advertising swimwear. Foolishly, I wasn’t very excited about it at the time and I didn’t win the bidding. As an obsessive Charles Addams collector who scans eBay every night, I gradually became aware of my huge mistake as fifteen years went by before another dish showed up. But when it did, the person had two Charles Addams dishes plus four other dishes that were obviously from the same advertising campaign with art by Syd Hoff and Sam Cobean. There was only one image by each artist so three of the dishes are duplicates. And most of them are in appalling condition. And I bought them all. But I was still no wiser about what they are.

Are these dishes, trays, ashtrays, coasters, or something else?

When were they made?

Why were they made?

Why are there so few of them in the marketplace?

Even with the dishes in my possession I only knew two things about them:

1. The advertising in all three of the images is for a swimsuit company called Cole.

2. Most (but not all) of the dishes have the name 
Bernäd (not Bernard) stamped on the back.

As companies, Cole and
Bernäd are not very well documented. However, I’ve found this information:

In 1941 Fred Cole changed the name of “West Coast Knitting Mills” to “Cole of California” and focused on swimwear. In 1948 
“Bernäd Creations Ltd” was incorporated on November 4th (but may have been manufacturing things before their incorporation date). In 1951 the cartoonist Sam Cobean died. Therefore it seems likely that the promotional Cole of California dishes, with commissioned artwork by Charles Addams, Sam Cobean, and Syd Hoff, made by Bernäd Ltd, were created between 1941 and 1951, and more likely between 1948 and 1951.

Then I acquired a Bernäd
ad from 1948 for enameled copper “cartoon trays” with William Stieg images on them. So, apparently, they are “trays” rather than “dishes.” I assume they mean ashtrays. These are clearly the same enameled copper trays as the Cole images, but rather than being for a specific advertising campaign, the ones in the ad are just pre-existing licensed images for sale to the public.


Bernäd Creations Ltd was a company that licensed images and printed them on things. In addition to enameled copper trays, they also made: ceramic plates, cocktail napkins, cocktail glasses, mugs, ashtrays, greeting cards, posters, figurines, pinback buttons, matchbooks, and other ephemera. They were apparently very successful with their line of Steig (“People are no damn good”) and Herb Gardner (“Next week we’ve got to get organized”) images. Used Bernäd items with images by these two artists are still generally available on eBay. They also produced Sam Cobean and Peter Arno licensed trays but those are harder to find.

The three known Cole advertising images are:

Charles AddamsA predecessor of the Pugsley character saying to a Grandma Addams-like character who has an octopus stuck in the top of her swimsuit, “It wouldn’t [have] happened with a Cole, Gramma.”

Sam Cobean—A woman with a thought bubble showing her wearing a swimsuit and looking much thinner is thinking, “You mean a Cole could do this to me?”


Syd Hoff—A couple, in bathing suits, is on a beach. The wife is looking through a telescope at stars, the husband is looking at women wearing bathing suits. The caption reads, “Heavenly bodies!” The stars and planets across the top of the tray spell out Cole.


To add to the confusion, a Bernäd tray by Peter Arno also has a swimsuit motif and shows an elderly man staring at a young women in a bathing suit and saying, “By Jove I’d almost dip into capital for her!” But as the tray doesn’t mention Cole (and is a pre-existing New Yorker image that was licensed) it’s probably unrelated to the advertising campaign.


The Tee and Charles Addams Foundation has no record of Mr. Addams creating anything for a Cole of California advertising campaign.

So that leaves me with these questions: When did the Cole advertising trays come out? What were they for? Were they available for sale? Or were they promotional items that were sent to wholesalers or stores? Or were they only given to prized employees? Someone out there must know, and it would help me to sleep at night if they shared the knowledge.







A cartoon by Peter Arno and a spot drawing by an unidentified artist



February 3, 2024 Update:  Much thanks to Marcus Gray, who has come up with a 1951 Los Angeles newspaper clipping with a column by Ezra Goodman. The writer, a Hollywood columnist and publicist, also collected ashtrays. The text in the lower half of the left-hand column dates the Syd Hoff "Heavenly Bodies!" ashtray to a Cole of California event held at the Griffith Observatory and the Cole estate. (I don't think Goodman knew Hoff's first name.) This information correlates well enough with Joel Jacobus's conjecture that these three Cole trays most likely date from 1948 to 1951.
Daily News, Los Angeles, September 19, 1951, p. 29




Note:  My thanks to Joel Jacobus for the fifteen years of interrupted research that went into this post.

Help us learn more about these ashtrays. Help Joel to sleep at night. Please share whatever you know about Cole of California's advertising campaign using art by New Yorker artists.

Speaking for myself, I'm also curious about whoever may have created the obscure spot drawing from 1938. Anyone?





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Thursday, September 15, 2022

Sam Cobean's Naked Eye Scarf

Richard A. Farrar produced a number of scarves designed by New Yorker cartoonists in the 1940s and '50s Artists included Charles Addams, Helen E. Hokinson, Anatol Kovarsky, Mischa Richter, Otto Soglow, and James Thurber. Farrar is therefore the leading candidate for having manufactured a seldom-seen scarf design by New Yorker cartoonist Sam Cobean (1913-1951). This scarf combines two of Cobean's specialties: Naked Eye cartoons and dog walking cartoons. It is from the collection of cartoonist Roz Chast.

Sam Cobean's Naked Eye scarf
Photographed by Roz Chast


Note:  My thanks to Roz Chast for sharing this beauty from her collection.

I would like to hear from anyone with scarves designed by Sam Cobean or other New Yorker cartoonists, especially ones that have not previously appeared on this blog. I am still looking for the elusive Helen E. Hokinson scarf, for instance. I'm also looking for different color variants of known designs and any scarce examples of Richard Farrar advertising that may or may not be out there.

And thanks again to Gina Kovarsky and Joel Jacobus, who started me on this journey through the history of New Yorker scarves.



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Wednesday, September 14, 2022

Sight Unseen: Jaim Cobeau's (and Ann's) Copy of All In Line by Saul Steinberg?

Jaim Cobeau? The name looks like a typo. What are we to make of the online listing by James Cummins, Bookseller, describing a copy of Saul Steinberg's early book, All In Line (1945), inscribed, with a drawing, "To Jaim Cobeau (and Ann)." I was intrigued as I would be by any book with an original Steinberg drawing, particularly one listed by a reputable seller, although not accompanied by any photograph or scan and complicated by an improbably-named recipient. That vaguely French surname Cobeau looked somewhat off, especially with the not quite Spanish first name Jaim, but it was possibly suggestive of the name of a well-known cartoonist of that era. Still, a concrete connection seemed too much to hope for, so I didn't.

Saul Steinberg
James Cummins, Bookseller, listing accessed September 8, 2022


What I do when confronted with such tantalizing incongruities can best be described as reckless gambling behavior. I take the self-assured stance of a casino goer who, after years of pondering the odds, is nearly certain which card the blackjack dealer will turn over next. In this instance I threw caution, accompanied by $550, to the wind. And what did I come up with?




So this is indeed cartoonist Sam Cobean's (and his wife Anne's) copy of the classic Steinberg book. It is boldy inscribed, "To Sam Cobean (and Ann) with [a tip of the hat]." It's remarkable how flawlessly Steinberg was able to incorporate English, the language of his adopted country, into his work. He can be forgiven for misspelling the co-recipient's name. The book is signed in the year of publication.


I really should move to Las Vegas.




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Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Sam Cobean for Drambuie

In the early 1950s, a magazine advertisement for Drambuie asked, "Is there a Chairman of the Board on your Christmas list?" Who knew how easy it could be to choose the right gift bottle and potentially advance one's career? And even if you did not know a Chairman yourself, it still couldn't hurt your career to start with a boss. In fact, while we're at it, a cordial that's good enough for the top dog should be good enough for every deserving person on your gift list, no?


The ad ran circa 1950 to 1952. One of the magazines in which it appeared was The New Yorker. Unfortunately, the illustrator, New Yorker cartoonist Sam Cobean, died in the summer of 1951 in a car accident. He was only 37. If Drambuie wanted to continue using a New Yorker cartoonist for its promotions in that magazine and others, it would have to turn to someone else.

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1951-12-01/flipbook/090/



Note:  I believe this to be the only illustration Sam Cobean created for Drambuie.


Fun fact:  In 2018, only 5.3% of corporate chair positions were held by women. This ad may not be as dated as you think. 




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Saturday, September 8, 2018

Selling American Express Travelers Cheques in the New Yorker

In the days before credit cards came into widespread use, travelers checks offered a safer alternative to carrying cash. American Express Travelers Cheques—as they prefer to spell them— were promoted in a series of humorous advertisements which appeared in the New Yorker in the early 1950s. These ads featured a variety of cartoonists, many of whom had their work appearing in the magazine.

Tom Henderson was never a New Yorker cartoonist, but he contributed several cartoons to this advertising campaign. This one appearing in the New Yorker is quite amusing. 
"I don't care who you say you are. The only
checks we accept are American Express Travelers Cheques."

Tom Henderson
The New Yorker, March 3, 1951, page 61

https://archives.newyorker.com/?iid=17153&crd=0&searchKey=EXPRESS%20YOUR%20PREFERENCE%20FOR%20THE%20BEST!#folio=060



Stan and Jan Berenstain are today remembered for their children's books, particularly those featuring the Berenstain Bears. They were not contributors to the New Yorker, yet their style fits in quite well with the magazine's. In 1951, they signed their work The Berenstains.
"We're not eloping till you're smart enough to
get American Express Travelers Cheques."

The Berenstains (Stan and Jan)
The New Yorker, April 7, 1951, page 119

https://archives.newyorker.com/?iid=17158&crd=0&searchKey=Convenient%20as%20Cash%20100%%20Safe#folio=118

Sam Cobean was a New Yorker regular. His cartoon for the advertising campaign is a grating experience.
"Gee, mister, you're old enough to know you ought to carry
your travel cash in American Express Travelers Cheques."

Sam Cobean
The New Yorker, May 19, 1951, page 57

https://archives.newyorker.com/?iid=17164&crd=0&searchKey=EXPRESS%20YOUR%20PREFERENCE%20FOR%20THE%20BEST!#folio=056



Cartoonist Chon Day's contribution is a reminder that it's never too early in a marriage to have your first disagreement. He and the following cartoonists had their work published often in the New Yorker.
"She won't go anywhere until he gets
American Express Travelers Cheques."

Chon Day
The New Yorker, June 16, 1951, page 102

https://archives.newyorker.com/?iid=17167&crd=0&searchKey=Convenient%20as%20Cash%20100%%20Safe#folio=102

Richard Taylor's cartoon suggests that American Express Travelers Cheques may not be such a new idea after all.
"It says:                                                                         
'American Express Travelers Cheques accepted here'."

Richard Taylor
The New Yorker, August 11, 1951, page 69



William Steig's contribution is right out of his Small Fry playbook. In this popular cartoon series, young children typically imagine themselves in grandiose situations.
"And to insure the safety of your trip, Sir,
here are your American Express Travelers Cheques."

William Steig
The New Yorker, May 3, 1952, page 63

https://archives.newyorker.com/?iid=18982&crd=0&searchKey=here%20are%20your%20American%20Express%20Travelers%20Cheques#folio=062

September 9, 2018 Update:  Cartoonist George Price is not afraid of heights.
"I told you this might happen. You should've carried
American Express Travelers Cheques—they're accepted everywhere!"

George Price
The New Yorker, July 3, 1954, page 47

"I told you this might happen. You should've carried
American Express Travelers Cheques—they're accepted everywhere!"

George Price
The New Yorker, July 3, 1954, page 47

https://archives.newyorker.com/?i=1954-07-03#folio=046



Note:  New Yorker cartoonist Ed Nofziger contributed to this advertising campaign for American Express Travelers Cheques at least four times. See this work here on Ink Spill.

George Price contributed to this American Express advertising campaign in 1954, as shown above. See it also on Ink Spill with other outstanding Price ads here.

And speaking of Ink Spill, a better scan of the William Steig ad can be found here along with other Steig advertising work.

There might very well be other examples of this advertising campaign that were published in the pages of the New Yorker. Please inform me if you know of any such additional ads.

Stan and Jan Berenstain have not appeared on this blog before. Neither has Tom Henderson. The other cartoonists have, of course, and links to their work previously shown on the blog appear in aqua below. I would love to hear from anyone with original art by any of the cartoonists in this post.


Quick Links to the Attempted Bloggery Archives:


Sam Cobean

Chon Day


William Steig

Richard Taylor


The New Yorker


Advertising


Attempted Bloggery's Checkered Index


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Thursday, May 25, 2017

Blog Post No. 2200: Peter Arno Drawings from the Estate of Frank Modell

Cartoonist Frank Modell (1917-2016) started working at the New Yorker around 1946 as an assistant to James Geraghty, the art editor. Geraghty, among his many responsibilities, personally handled cartoonist Peter Arno, the magazine's most talented and most temperamental cartoonist. A number of unpublished Arno originals now have come to light from Mr. Modell's estate. He had in his possession at least one cover rough and at least five cartoon roughs plus one published drawing. Most of these predate Mr. Modell's time at the magazine. A few lack captions. A few have been carelessly folded and sustained considerable paper loss. While some of these conceivably could have been gifts from Mr. Arno, most of these might very well have been forgotten scraps left carelessly about the office which no one wanted and which Mr. Modell had the foresight to grab and take home before they were lost forever.

Four such cartoon roughs were offered for sale in March by Lotus International Auctions LLC. The lot went unsold. Two other drawings from the Modell estate are now in the collection of the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum at Ohio State.

We'd better have a look at everything. Let's start with the Lotus auction:

It's never a good idea to lead with a blurry image.

"Now stop and think a minute—did I bite you?"
Peter Arno
Preliminary cartoon art
 The New Yorker, July 5, 1930

Condition aside, it's not bad, but Arno was not satisfied with this image. He went on to lower the vantage point to a dog's eye view in the published version of "Now stop and think a minute—did I bite you?" This lower camera angle gives us a more wide-angle view of the scene with the vertical lines diverging exaggeratedly toward the top. Arno also has repositioned the assailant so that his back is now toward us and we can appreciate the sheer power of his windup. The cartoonish stances seen in the rough have been eliminated and we now have a far less awkward and far more dramatic scene. The two principle figures veer away from each other in a V which exaggerates the diverging lines of the background. Their arms serve as counterweights, transforming the V of the figures into an M. The contrast of light and dark is more pronounced. Thus a gag cartoon that was already worthy of publication in just about any magazine in America was reworked by Arno into something substantially more effective.
Peter Arno
The New Yorker, July 5, 1930, page 14

Caption

The next piece started out as a promising Peter Arno gag, but as we'll see it didn't end up that way:
"And what, may I inquire, were you doing in my house?"
Peter Arno
Preliminary New Yorker cartoon art, c. 1949

"And what, may I inquire, were you doing in my house?"
Peter Arno
Preliminary New Yorker cartoon art, c. 1949

"And what, may I inquire, were you doing in my house?"
Peter Arno
Caption to preliminary New Yorker cartoon art, c. 1949



By the time of publication in the May 7, 1949 issue, this gag was reassigned to the very capable Sam Cobean, but this is problematic. The idea is clearly better suited to Arno's talents and very well may have been written expressly for him—in fact, it reads to this day like a classic Peter Arno gag. So why on earth give it away to another artist, however adept, who simply can't make the most of it? Arno's treatment of the irate husband is palpably funnier than Cobean's ever could hope to be, and while Arno's composition still needs some fine-tuning (note, for example, the impossible angle of the husband's foot), the finished cartoon should have been an instant sensation. Perhaps an explanation, in part, is that instead of working out the problems in this drawing, Arno had to work on the famous sizzling platter cartoon for publication in this very issue, and certainly no one else could have taken on that assignment. It seems likely that James Geraghty was charged with assigning, and sometimes reassigning, ideas from the gag writers to the New Yorker's stable of talented artists, a task which may not always have been so enviable.
Sam Cobean
The New Yorker, May 7, 1949, page 37


Sam Cobean's gag is long forgotten. Arno's contribution to the same issue is a revered classic that provided the title for his 1949 collection Peter Arno's Sizzling Platter:
Peter Arno
The New Yorker, May 7, 1949, page 35



Another unpublished Arno cartoon from the 1920s has suffered every indignity: tearing, creasing, paper loss, and caption loss. Usually the two Whoops Sisters are engaged in a bit of cheeky, low-comedy dialogue but, uncharacteristically, only one sister is present here. Still, there might still be two speakers. My guess is that the first speaker would be the man with the cane who would say something very proper along the lines of "I say, my good fellow, you've gone and splashed that fine lady!" That would be followed by a very saucy reply from the lone Whoops Sister beginning, inevitably, with "Whoops! ..." Note how Arno uses the perspective lines and the cane to lead our eyes to the poor, bespattered Whoops Sister.
["?"]
["Whoops!... ?"]
Peter Arno
Unpublished Whoops Sister New Yorker gag, c. 1920's

Detail

Peter Arno's signature

A final unpublished gag of a hunting party and, it would seem, a car valet looks to be press-ready. It too comes to us missing its caption.
["?"]
Peter Arno
Unpublished New Yorker gag, c. 1930's


September 19, 2021 Update:  It turns out Arno completely reworked this gag before publication in The New Yorker:

"Trapshooting? I thought you said crapshooting!"
Peter Arno
The New Yorker, April 30, 1932, page 14
Image added September 19, 2021
[End of September 19, 2021 update]




Peter Arno's signature

Peter Arno

Lotus International Auctions, LLC Item Description







The Modell estate went to the considerable expense of framing the above four pieces under Museum Glass. The artwork was likely too fragile to be sold otherwise, but opening the bidding at $2,000 was asking a lot for pieces in such sorry condition. Two other works from the estate were donated to the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum. Here's how the museum went about cataloguing them:


Peter Arno
Franklyn B. Modell Collection of Cartoon Art
The Ohio State University
Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum
And:

Peter Arno
Franklyn B. Modell Collection of Cartoon Art
The Ohio State University
Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum


Both drawings are dated 1939 by the Billy Ireland, but they're obviously much earlier, let's say 1926-1929. The shower drawing is related to a series of "Why, Auntie" drawings Arno did, none of which are as funny as he seems to have thought they were and none of which appeared in the New Yorker. The idea is to present a scene in which "Auntie" is surprised, naked, by her nephew in a compromising situation he is too young to understand. Arno's knowing reader could at once take in the nephew's innocence, Auntie's embarrassment, and the erotic fun inherent in the situation—not a bad formula, really, except that it does involve depicting an underage child exposed to something of a salacious nature to make its point. This drawing is apparently unpublished, but it evolved some forty years later into Arno's Lady in the Shower drawing, which was intended by the artist to be a worthy companion to his madcap Man in the Shower drawing, although really it was never in the same league. The notion that Arno couldn't let go of this singular awkward idea over his entire adult life is one that is perhaps best left unanalyzed.
["?"]
Variation on the "Why, Auntie" drawings and an early precursor to the Lady in the Shower drawing

"Why Auntie—what big eyes you have!"
Peter Arno's Parade (New York:  Horace Liveright, 1929)
Peter Arno's Favorites (New York:  Blue Ribbon Books, 1932)

"Why, auntie! You've got your hat on. Are you going out?"
Peter Arno's Hullabaloo (New York:  Horace Liveright, 1930)
Peter Arno's Favorites (New York:  Blue Ribbon Books, 1932)

"What the hell goes on here, Auntie?"
Peter Arno's For Members Only (New York:  Simon and Schuster, 1935)

Lady in the Shower (New York:  Simon and Schuster, 1967)

Now it's time we move on from a woman being surprised in the shower to...a woman being surprised in the bathtub. It seems this is the only one of Frank Modell's Arno drawings actually to be published, but it appeared in a cartoon collection of his and certainly not in the New Yorker. The Billy Ireland dutifully lists the subjects of this drawing as sexual harassment, sexual lust, and voyeurism, but unfortunately it's the interracial aspect of this voyeurism that Arno found especially funny here. He was amused, it would seem, by Asian men lusting after white women. Along these lines, a New Yorker cover of his from 1928 shows an Asian servant silently contemplating a modern sculpture depicting a voluptuous, nude— and white—woman.
"Hi, Kid, whatchya doin'?"
Peter Arno
Original art
Peter Arno's Parade (New York:  Horace Liveright, 1929)
"Hi, Kid, whatchya doin'?"
Peter Arno's Parade (New York:  Horace Liveright, 1929)


Peter Arno
The New Yorker, December 8, 1928


Note:  Well, that's all for now, but it doesn't have to end here. Readers are asked to contribute their own insights that will further help to place these six drawings by Peter Arno from the estate of Frank Modell in their proper historical context.

Open the floodgates! Are there other drawings in the New Yorker's history worked up by one artist and subsequently assigned to another? Readers are invited to share specific examples of different artists' approaches to a single idea drawing prior to publication in the magazine.

A trove of Peter Arno's work is hidden away out there in private collections. Send in scans or photos of what you've got and let's see what we can figure out together.

Frank Modell also owned a preliminary New Yorker cover by Peter Arno. That one was discussed earlier on the blog here.

Want to know more? Peter Arno:  The Mad, Mad World of The New Yorker's Greatest Cartoonist is Michael Maslin's fascinating biography of the artist published in 2016. It's available on Amazon here.


The Attempted Bloggery Centennial Posts
Blog Post No. 100
Blog Post No. 200:  A Shaggy Dog Story

Quick Links to the Attempted Bloggery Archives:

Peter Arno

Frank Modell

Sam Cobean

James Geraghty

Preliminary New Yorker Cartoon Art

Original Book Illustration Art

Unpublished art


What the hell goes on here?

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