Giving Thanks 2022

It's Thanksgiving already? Time to find a turkey...

George Booth
The New Yorker, November 26, 1973

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1973-11-26/flipbook/CV1/

Throughout these eleven years of blogging, I have benefited from the support of a number of generous contributors. Some send me submissions, some send me alerts, and some send me corrections. Some function more as behind-the-scenes advisors. Whatever the case, I owe a great debt to each of the individuals listed here for offering much-appreciated assistance to me over these past twelve months. Friends, I thank you all:

Amid Amidi

Tom Bloom

Scott Burns

joecab

Roz Chast

David from Manhattan

Joe Dator

Linda H. Davis

Bob Eckstein

Karen Green

Joel Jacobus

Stephen Kroninger

Michael Maslin

H. Kevin Miserocchi

Jeff Nelson

J. J. Sedelmaier

Steve Stoliar

Jessica Ziegler

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The New Yorker Advertises in Stage, April 1938

"People who like the theatre can't help but like The New Yorker." So advertised the magazine in the April 1938 issue of Stage: The Magazine of After Dark. The ad featured a collage of nine theatre pages from The New Yorker, all illustrated by Alfred Frueh. Evidently the magazine was making a play for new readers who were fans of the theatre, rather than fans of flawless grammar. Frueh's drawings cover the Broadway plays "On Borrowed Time," "Our Town," Julius Caesar," "Of Mice and Men," and "A Doll's House," among others.

"People who like the theatre can't help but like The New Yorker."
Alfred Frueh

The magazine cover features a photograph of actress Helen Hayes:

Helen Hayes touring as Portia in "The Merchant of Venice"
Stage:  The Magazine of After Dark, April 1938
Photo by Vandamm

The truth is, readers of Stage were already familiar with a number of contributors to the New Yorker, many of them artists. Illustrator Victor de Pauw contributed cartoons and spot drawings to The New Yorker. A full-width spot drawing for Stage on the contents page could easily be taken for a New Yorker spot.

Contents
Spot drawing by Victor de Pauw

Ludwig Bemelmans illustrates a Frank Sullivan piece the year after the artist's work first appeared in The New Yorker and the year before his first Madeline book was published.

First putting suet on his Saratoga lawn for a tame flock of spring harbingers, Frank Sullivan takes a junket to Broadway, and casts a weather-eye on the current drama.
Ludwig Bemelmans

Detail showing the remainder of the far right side of the Bemelmans drawing

Christina Malman caricatures actress Beatrice Lillie.

"Till the Weather Breaks" by Beatrice Lillie
Caricature  of Beatrice Lillie by Christina Malman

Why , I can remember when a dog could go to sleep all day in the middle of Main Street and nothing come along to disturb him.

—Thornton Wilder, "Our Town"

The streets of Grover's Corners still look pretty tranquil in Adolf Dehn's illustration of the Stage Manager's story, condensed. New Yorker readers occasionally got to see Dehn's work, but never in color.

"Our Town"
Adolf Dehn

Meanwhile Abe Birnbaum illustrates the jazz scene.

The old Onyx Club

"Oh, Say Can You Swing" by Paul Douglas

Illustration by Abe Birnbaum

Ruth Woodbury Sedgwick's column is named for the privilege of sitting in the center seats of the seventh row. One hopes George Price's absurd cartoon takes place many rows back.

"He's a dramatic critic, and sees a point in keeping it a secret."
George Price

Music writer Marcia Davenport, who also contributed to The New Yorker, offers the second part of a profile of conductor Leopold Stokowski. Otto Soglow's accompanying cartoon anticipates the iconic handshake between Stokowski and Mickey Mouse that was to occur two years later in Walt Disney's "Fantasia" (1940). The maestro is even shown in silhouette, as both he and Mickey are in the movie. Did Davenport have advance knowledge of the handshake?

"Hi-ya, Leo."
Otto Soglow

from "Fantasia" (1940)

Note:  This all started when master collagist Stephen Kroninger sent me a scan of the New Yorker theatre advertisement from his magazine collection. After that, one thing just led to another. My thanks to Stephen for all the work he put in. This is his forty-sixth contribution here. He should know better by now.

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A Happy New Year from Rea Irvin

Top-hatted and diapered, a smiling and chubby New Year's baby enjoys a glass of champagne and a cigar. This is the subject of an undated New Year's card from illustrator Rea Irvin. The seldom-seen image appears here courtesy of Stephen Kroninger.

Over the years, Irvin created any number of images to celebrate the New Year. These were reproduced in magazines and newspapers and seen all over the country. A two-panel cartoon for the old Life magazine, for example, contrasted the supposed restraint of an 1867 New Year's celebration with the corresponding madcap revels of 1917, fifty years later. Irvin's signature from this era is very similar to what is printed on his New Year's card.

A happy New Year 1867 — A happy New Year 1917
Life, January 4, 1917

https://www.loc.gov/resource/ppmsca.04666/

On its cover, Life rang in 1921 with an Irvin New Year's baby casting out the old year. The textures here are rich and vibrant. The elderly courtiers seated in the background seem superfluous here.

Life, December 30, 1920

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/31/d6/5e/31d65e3fcb1399a15be2d3714d1cf68f.jpg

Irvin's Life cover for the 1922 New Year is somewhat unconventional as well. Titled The Balloon Man, it proves that Irvin could render adorable babies when he wished to. In fact, the entire image is a pleasure to look at, but the gag, if it can be called that, seems a bit muddled.

Life, December 29, 1921

https://www.ebay.com/itm/273062626905?hash=item3f93cd0659:g:~DcAAOSw8A1afddb

Irvin drew The New Yorker's very first New Year cover for 1926. His creation Eustace Tilley is seen uncharacteristically head-on in the midst of a cover that can be said to work like clockwork.

The New Yorker, January 2, 1926

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1926-01-02/flipbook/CV1/

Father Time appears on the cover of The New Yorker to herald 1928. He's blowing bubbles.

The New Yorker, December 31, 1927

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1927-12-31/flipbook/CV1/

Then it's all aboard for 1929:

The New Yorker, December 29, 1928

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1928-12-29/flipbook

Irvin had the New Year's baby for 1931 carry the burden of Atlas.

The New Yorker, December 27, 1930

Image added January 8, 2022

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1930-12-27/flipbook/0/

A glass of bubbly is raised high by a prancing faun on the New Yorker cover welcoming in 1934. It bears a close resemblance to the glass held by the baby with a cigar.

The New Yorker, December 30, 1933

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1933-12-30/flipbook/CV1/

For the New Year of 1937, Irvin returns to the idea of his 1917 cartoon for Life, showing us again a sedate celebration from fifty years earlier. A girl dutifully serving her father can be seen in the 1917 gag as well. This New Yorker cover may originally have been intended for an earlier New Year; the last digit of the retro year 1887 has been altered.

The New Yorker, January 2, 1937

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1937-01-02/flipbook/0/

Another Irvin baby raises a glass and appears overjoyed to welcome in 1939. This is a truly delightful cover, even if it is celebrating the ill effects of inebriation.

The New Yorker, December 31,1938

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1938-12-31/flipbook/CV1/

As an aside, we've seen two examples here of Irvin's penchant for mocking the staid manners of the 19th century.

A happy New Year 1867 — A happy New Year 1917
Life, January 4, 1917

https://www.loc.gov/resource/ppmsca.04666/

The New Yorker, January 2, 1937

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1937-01-02/flipbook/0/

This has some bearing on his most famous image, which appeared on the cover of The New Yorker's first issue in 1925. It shows, of course, the figure we now know as Eustace Tilley, an anachronistic dandy in Regency dress coolly observing a butterfly through his monocle. If the 1917 and 1937 images above can serve as an example of Irvin's intent, Tilley may have been conceived ironically as a pretentious throwback from a full century earlier, a sleepy figure who represented the very opposite of the smart, irreverent magazine poised to take Jazz Age New York by storm.

Note:  My thanks to illustrator Stephen Kroninger for sending me the scan of the New Year's card that begins this post. This is Stephen's forty-fifth contribution to the blog. What a great way to start off the year!

Rea Irvin could well have drawn and published any number of additional cartoons and illustrations on the occasion of many a New Year. I'd love to be able to post more of these, and of course I'd also like to know what year the card is from. Please help me out if you can.

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Giving Thanks 2021

Turkey Day is upon us once again. This is my special time to give thanks and to offer my help by staying out of the kitchen.

Helen E. Hokinson
The New Yorker, November 27, 1937

I have been writing posts here for more than ten years now, but it's no secret that I am not entirely on my own. In my blogging pursuit I am fortunate to be aided by a dedicated group of knowledgeable readers and contributors with incredible resources and expertise that often seem to perfectly complement what I can provide. I owe so much to each of the individuals listed below for offering their generous help to me over this past year. Friends, I thank you all:

Linda Appleby

Tom Bloom

Daniel Borinsky

Steven D. Brewer

Dick Buchanan

Scott Burns

David from Manhattan

A Friend of the Blog

Joel Jacobus

Stephen Kroninger

David Leopold

Michael Maslin

Jeff Nelson

Joe Petro III

TNBIB

Sally Williams

Note:  Labels that link to posts made possible or more complete by each of these contributors may be found below, with a couple of exceptions. The post on the Lüchow's guest book is itself too full of celebrity names to have room for any contributor labels. Tom Bloom, Joel Jacobus, and David Leopold (the latter apparently through the miracle of Twitter) provided invaluable insights. I have no room below for a label linking to the older post helped along by TNBIB, who provided a valuable update on the topic of Ludwig von Drake cufflinks. Say what you will, no other blog covers these topics.

Last but by no means least, I wish to thank my family, who makes everything worthwhile. 

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Oz: The Hundredth Anniversary Celebration Deluxe Edition

The deluxe limited edition of Oz: The Hundredth Anniversary Celebration is signed by an impressive array of thirty leading children's book authors and illustrators including cover artist Maurice Sendak. Originally selling for about $100, this handsome, slipcased edition is priced considerably higher today—that is, if you can find a copy at all.

Cover art by Maurice Sendak

Oz:  The Hundredth Anniversary Celebration
Classic Editions listing accessed August 25, 2021

https://www.classiceditions.com/oz-the-100-year-celebration-signed-by-30-including-maurice-sendak-88-of-100/

Note:  Thanks to illustrator and children's book fancier Stephen Kroninger for bringing me up to speed on this deluxe edition and steering me clear of the flying monkeys.

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Roz Chast is Outbid on a Charles Addams Scarf

When I manage to lose a must-win eBay auction, I hide my sorrows here on the blog, presenting the sale to the world as objectively as I can with nary a hint, I hope, of the heartbreak it wrought. After all, that is what someone with a blogger's mentality, or at least this blogger's mentality, does. How might a more creative person, a cartoonist, say, handle the bitter disappointment of a lost auction?  The answer doesn't come up often publicly, but on June 2, New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast lost out on a scarf designed by none other than the great Charles Addams, the very sort of item proudly featured here on the blog in the past. Sixteen days later, she took to  Instagram and posted this:

To Whom It May Concern:
Roz Chast
Instagram post, June 18, 2021

https://www.instagram.com/p/CQR3rZFBKaC/

So that's what a highly creative person does. My job as a blogging drudge is to provide the context. The eBay auction featured an Addams Family scarf produced by designer Richard A. Farrar. We have seen this scarf before, but we've never seen an actual sale price. Bidding started at $99 but quickly doubled. The final sale price was $312.

The Addams Family and its members had not been given names yet in the early 1950s when this scarf was likely produced. Characters were only given their names for the 1964 TV show. In this corner, let's call him Gomez:

The Addams Family mansion is central to the design:

Granny Frump is on the lower left of the scarf:

The scarf's printed signature:

Morticia's corner:

A red stain:

In this color scheme, Uncle Fester is given red eyes:

Lurch gets the remaining corner. Is it odd that Fester wasn't given his own corner?

There is also a stain near Wednesday:

Charles Addams
eBay listing ended June 2, 2021

https://www.ebay.com/itm/1950s-Addams-Family-Scarf-Chas-Addams-Creepy-Kookie-and-Super-Duper-Rare-/363412229548?_trksid=p2385738.m4383.l44720.c10&nordt=true&rt=nc&orig_cvip=true

It's always gratifying when an eBay auction presents information clearly obtained from this blog:

Charles Addams
eBay Item Description

Note that eBay auctions are not like live auctions, which end when there are no more bids. EBay listings simply end at a fixed time. As a result, there is an advantage to sniping, which is placing a bid very late in the auction, so late in fact that it is difficult for another bidder to respond. Sniping thus averts bidding wars and allows a potential bidder to hide his intentions until the final seconds of a sale.

Ms. Chast placed her first bid one day into the auction. She placed her final protective bid less than eight minutes before the auction's close. The competing bid that won the auction by a single $5 bidding increment was placed just eight seconds before the end of the listing. It is fairly common for eBay auctions to be won by the last person to bid.

Charles Addams
eBay Bid History
The final bid comes in with eight seconds remaining in the auction, a snipe. The underbidder is, assumedly, cartoonist Roz Chast.

Note:  My thanks to Stephen Kroninger for first alerting me to the Instagram post.

For that matter, thanks to Joel Jacobus, who helped immeasurably with my first post about the Addams Family scarf. It is the most popular post ever to appear on this blog.

I have written before about Charles Addams and Roz Chast at the Cornell Club.

For the record, I did not participate in this auction. But what if I had?

03668

Stephen Kroninger's Copy of Harlem As Seen By Hirschfeld

Harlem As Seen By Hirschfeld was first published in 1941 with art by Al Hirschfeld and text by William Saroyan. More than half a century later, collagist Stephen Kroninger had Hirschfeld sign his copy of the book. Hirschfeld not only signed, dated, and dedicated the book to Stephen, he sketched a large self-portrait as well. In short, the book has everything but a Nina.

Note:  My friend Stephen Kroninger has outdone himself once again, photographing a book personalized for him by one of the 20th century's greatest caricaturists. This is Stephen's forty-second contribution to Attempted Bloggery. If he keeps this up, there won't be much left for me to do.

Tomorrow, June 21, we remember Al Hirschfeld's birthday, born on that day in 1903. He spent much of the next 99 years showing us how well he could draw.

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Stephen Kroninger's Copy of The World of Hirschfeld

Caricaturist Al Hirschfeld's The World of Hirschfeld was published in 1970. On July 18, 1998, illustrator Stephen Kroninger brought him a copy of the book to sign. Hirschfeld more than complied. He signed and drew two of his unmistakeable hands pointing from the dedication to the signature and from the signature to the date, giving a nice flow to the half-title page.

Note:  Once again my thanks and appreciation to Stephen Kroninger who, when he's not creating masterful collages, photographs books and pictures from his collection and sends them to me to mull over on the blog. This is his forty-first contribution to Attempted Bloggery.

Let us not forget that Al Hirschfeld's birthday is June 21, 1903. He passed away in 2003 at age ninety-nine.

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