We cartoonists, a compact community, draw a little bit closer when we lose one of our own. This week we lost our friend, the great New Yorker artist, George Booth. George was a part of The New Yorker’s landscape for more than half the magazine’s life (his first drawing appeared in 1969).The Spill has asked George’s fellow artists to share their memories and thoughts about this cartoon god. We begin with one of our most senior contributors, Edward Frascino, who began contributing his work in 1965, four years before George Booth’s first New Yorker cartoon was published.
Edward Frascino: There never was and never will be anyone like George Booth.
Michael Shaw: As a wee lad of 41, and a freshly-anointed New Yorker cartoonist, I boldly arrived in Manhattan to attend a very early iteration of The New Yorker festival. My very first (and only successful) mission of the trip, was to seek out Mr. Booth and request an audience…I tossed out “We are both native Missourians!” as a plaintive plea.
He seemed amused by my ardor. I think that’s the life-lesson George and his cartoons taught me, no matter what life tosses your way, it never hurts to stay amused.
Photo: Michael Shaw with George Booth, NYC. 2002ish, according to Mr. Shaw.
Roz Chast: George Booth was a huge inspiration to me. He created his own cartoon world which came from him, not from some vague idea of what a New Yorker cartoon was. His drawings and the gag line beneath were deeply interconnected and always hilarious. He invented a style that suited his sense of humor. The humor of the cartoon was not only the gag line. It was often in the details of the drawing, like the electrical cord which came from a socket in the ceiling and stretched down to some crackpot appliance– an old toaster, a space heater– buried in the drawing with a bunch of other crackpot objects. I loved the way he drew faces. I loved the way he drew dogs and cats. I loved, loved, loved the way he drew objects. The people in his cartoons lived in a specific, Boothian environment.
I’ve listed individual things I loved about his cartoons, but mostly I loved their spirit. George saw the world in a hilarious, deeply generous way that his genius enabled him to put into cartoon form and share with us.
He was also a funny and generous soul in person. When I began at The New Yorker, he was one of the first of the “older” cartoonists to speak to me. He made me feel included. We often made each other laugh. We were good friends. I will miss him deeply.
photo: George Booth with Liza Donnelly and Roz Chast on his 96th birthday this year
Liza Donnelly: George was a friend, and one of the kindest people I know— aside from being a very gifted artist. His drawings brought us into a specific world: his world. His work was the kind of New Yorker drawing we love, the kind that shows you another person’s view of the world. He was a playful guy, and his cartoons showed that. He didn’t often go political (really not at all), but he did get philosophical in a way only George could. He loved everyman, his work often showed us folks who appeared less well-off than some—or at least they looked as such. But these people George created didn’t seem to care about material things, they enjoyed life and all its wackiness.
I first met George at the onset of my career. I was just trying to make my way into my chosen field, and was at my first Cartoonists’ Guild meeting. Sitting alone and not knowing a soul, George came over, sat down and introduced himself. I was starstruck that THE George Booth was greeting me and making me feel at home. That was George to a T. He seemed to love people and showed it.
A very tall man, he tended to hunch a bit as if apologetic for his size. George sought to connect with others, and being tall he bent to our level. His easy grin was inviting, as if we were in on a joke with him (which we inevitably were). His uninhibited laugh was joyous.
He will be missed. Thank you for all the kindness and wonderful art, George.
Peter Kuper:
Looking at Booth’s cartoons I feel like they are in my bloodstream, DNA, vision of the world.
I stared at them so hard for so many years (still do) and of course copied them hoping to discover the pixy dust that made them so unique. I remember the day in my parent’s bedroom seeing their copy of The New Yorker with a comic strip–a rare sighting–and even crazier, in a completely new language. ‘Ip Gissa,Gul.’ As I deciphered it, I felt like I was in on something beyond special. It was the language I wanted to speak–Booth! And one that made me want to Berlitz my way into his way of thinking.
Curse time for moving forward like this and robbing us of greats like George Booth.
Thankfully he leaves us a long line of cartoon breadcrumbs to follow well into the future so we can find our way home to his brilliant work.
Tracey Berglund:
I’d like to share a recollection I had with George Booth in the Cartoon Waiting Room at the World Trade Office of The New Yorker.
About 4 years ago while waiting to show my cartoons to Emma on a Tuesday I was sketching and George asked to see what I was doing. I showed him my sketchbook with watercolor drawing I’d made of burnt matchsticks. I’d moved into a new apartment and some of my first drawings were small still lifes of matches in different formations. I was slightly embarrassed to show these drawings but George who had never met me before (though of course I knew him and his incredible work) looked at my drawings reverently and looked up at me and said something like, “Wow- You are a true artist. These are just incredible.” It touched my heart at a moment when for many reasons I felt insecure about my being in that room at all. He looked me directly in the eyes and his voice was so warm and kind.
Photo: Ms Berglund’s sketchbook with burnt matchsticks.
Kim Warp: I only met George Booth one time and was in such awe I couldn’t say very much. He was a huge talent, and as a young cartoonist I spent hours studying his use of markers to draw light. He created a world of his own and captured the dynamics of family and small town life like no other.
E.S. Glenn: I didn’t know George personally but I do say, he and his artwork genuinely played a major role in enlightening me to the fact that New Yorker Cartoonists are in a class of their own. His style is instantly recognizable. I send my utmost respect to the late master!
Jason Chatfield:
I remember asking him what pen he used. He said, “Oh, whatever’s lyin’ around.”
“Wow. And for your finishes?”He said, “Oh, I’m not sure what it is. All I know is it has an “F” on it.”
For the following three years I’m searching around the world for this mysterious “F” pen. Turns out it’s a Faber Castell artists Pitt pen. Black. Nothing fancy. But let’s be honest, the man could have used a pair of garden shears and come out with something exquisite. He’ll be greatly missed.
Much more on Mr. Booth from Jason Chatfield here
Andy Singer:
George Booth influenced my decision to become a cartoonist. As a little kid, my parents subscribed to The New Yorker and I always liked looking at his drawings of dogs, cats and other animals. We had many of his books–Think Good Thoughts About a Pussy Cat, Pussycats Need Love, Too, and Rehearsal’s Off, to name a few. As I grew up, I came to deeply appreciate his sense of humor and his ability to depict the idiosyncrasies of a certain generation of New Yorkers to which my parents belonged. These included: Cat, plant and junk hoarders; Amateur musicians; 1960’s and 70’s teenagers; Comically isolated bachelors; Grumpy old men in university clubs; Midwestern old women of the Greatest Generation; Drunks; Eccentric writers and inventors. Many were characters specific to New York City but they somehow achieved a universal quality. He was the comic chronicler of his time. All these incredibly funnyarchetypes (along with my parents) have passed into the great beyond and, with them, a certain sense of humor has also passed– a kind of stoic but incredibly funny understatement and embrace of or tolerance for humanity in all its craziness.
At times, George could be incredibly profound. He did a multi-panel cartoon depicting a criminal beating someone in the first panel and, in the next panel, praying for forgiveness at a church altar. Then, in the final panel, he returns to beating his victim. It’s a humorous drawing but describes human behavior and sin in such a simple, profound way. I think about it all the time when I do something that I know is stupid …but find myself doing it again.
Finally, I also came to appreciate how George worked to create a seemingly effortless drawing, taping bits of drawings together to get the perfect disgruntled cat or dog into a larger scene, and how he carefully observed
architecture, plants or room interiors. To this day, I’ll draw something (like the attached) and think, “That’s a George Booth cartoon.” I’ll miss him and his work.
Maggie Larson: I’d come in to the The New Yorker offices in fall of 2016. I’d started submitting that summer and tried to make the weekly cartoon meeting in person. That week, George Booth was waiting to meet with Bob Mankoff as well [Mr. Mankoff was The New Yorker’s cartoon editor from 1997-2017]. One of my favorite cartoonists, I mustered up the courage to introduce myself to him. George was affable and kind and asked where I was from. I said Oregon, and he replied, “Oregon! There are people in Oregon?”
Glynnis Fawkes: I’ve studied George’s drawings since I was very little. All dogs are his dogs for me — or I wish they were! Admiration and respect for his life and work.
Carolita Johnson:
He was the best one of us all. Kind and funny and insightful and human, whose humor came from a place of both innocence and wisdom that never seemed to wane as he accumulated years and experience. I wish I were more like him in every way. There will never be another like him.
I’ve treasured this drawing he gave me at a storytelling event we did together years ago, a story of amused mischief and innocence in equal measures, his speciality. The story behind that drawing was how in Sunday school he used to start out drawing what appeared to be a woman’s naked body and while all the kids began getting worked up over the transgression he appeared to be committing he’d veer into the dog drawing by adding the body and turning the arms into ears.
Felipe Galindo (feggo): George Booth leaves an incredible legacy of art and humor. He gave people countless moments of joy with his drawings, me included. I feel honored to have met him and shared time and stories with him, those moments are priceless. I love the story he told me (and to many more) that he joined the Marines to draw cartoons for their magazine. A gentle soul, unpretentious, down to earth, a great human being.
Carol Isaacs (The Surreal McCoy): I had the great fortune and privilege to be at the Pergola lunch table with George one Tuesday. He was a very dear and gentle man with a wonderfully wicked sense of humour. A cartooning master and a mensch.
Jose Arroyo:
In 2006 I was showing cartoons to Robert Mankoff for the first time. I was waiting in a crowded side room when George Booth came in. He noticed they were no places to sit so I stood up and offered my seat. He said, “Oh, no no. Please. I’ll wait in the hall.” He left the room. One beat. Two beats. Then George came back in, grabbed my arm, and growled, “Get up!” General laughter, with the loudest coming from me. Rest in peace George and thanks for the story.
Tim Hamilton: I’ll never forget the time he complimented me on my socks! He had a long life and a great smile!
Harry Bliss: George was a gem. I always enjoyed seeing him in the offices when he would make the trek. Consistently affable and kind to me. Never forget that smile. Easily the most charming cartoonist I’ve met. Lucky for the time I had with George.
My condolences to his family and friends.
Eddie Ward:
George Booth was one of the funniest and most inspirational New Yorker cartoonists of all time. The beautifully loose meandering line of a George Booth cartoon is instantly recognisable and his odd ball characters and subtle observations of everyday life found humour in the mundane. Relatable, Joyful, Unique, Delightfully demented. Nobody has ever made more sense out of chaos!Thank you for making us all laugh for so many years. What a legacy he leaves behind.
Tom Toro: I only met George Booth once, but it was enough to endear him to me forever. He came to San Francisco for a book signing. I had just sold my first cartoon to The New Yorker. Sheepishly waiting in the reception line, I made my way to the front, shook his hand, and somehow mustered the temerity to share my news. George broke into a toothy grin and paused in the doodle he was drawing. “Enjoy it!” he said. “It’s a dream.”
Ellis Rosen:
I only met him once in the office. I had a very tiny bottle of water next to me, he looked at it and said, “I see you fell off the wagon again.”
Ken Krimstein: No words. Just a memory — at the National Cartoonists Society convention in New York about ten years ago, he spoke and did his overhead projector presentation, complete with moving little bits of paper and sound effects. And, if I’m not mistaken, cackles.
And then, how his daughter relayed a story, “we’d know he was working when we heard him laughing — cackling? — from his studio.”
One final story he told — how, when he enlisted to join the Marines during the war, the recruiting officer asked him what position he’d like to take in the service. With complete sincerity, Booth answered, “cartoons.”
Crowden Satz: A remarkable cartoonist has died. George Booth. I met him only once, both of us in The New Yorker‘s waiting room. He radiated calm and good humor.
One of the longest serving cartoonists I’m aware of, his work was instantly recognizable. The characters and locations were always gritty, dingy and run-down. Never pretty and yet somehow attractively ugly.
I’d say his specialty was dogs, more specifically a muttish junkyard dog, but it wouldn’t be accurate as his fat, skinny, young, mostly-old humans were just as distinctively his. The humor was always light. He didn’t do political (overtly, at least), or rage or horror. Just razor sharp observations of the day to day human condition.
Take a moment to Google his works. And spare a thought for a unique man whose passing has left a very deep void in the world of humor.
Robert Leighton: I saw George interviewed by David Sipress one priceless night at a small venue on the Lower East Side. I’d never met George till that time and didn’t know what to expect. Well, he was delightful, in both senses: he delighted the audience, and he himself was full of delight. He cracked himself up. What a gift he gave us, sharing his self-delight with the world.
One story that sticks with me is a contest he had with fellow cartoonist Henry Martin (who himself passed away at 95 only a couple years ago) over which of them could get the longest caption into the magazine. As I remember the story (Michael or David can correct me)*, George won, with a caption that was simply pulled from a letter that Henry had written to him. (Maybe the reason I don’t remember the details of the story so well is that George kept laughing uproariously while telling it.)
Two cartoons among many come quickly to mind: Captionless—a crowd gathers to watch an execution, waiting to see whether the guillotined head will knock down all the bowling pins at the bottom of the sloping ramp. And a Brooklyn scene, as a 30-ish schlub loafs on the front stoop of a brownstone, gawking at a pretty girl walking by. His impatient mother stands at the top of the stoop and yells at him, “Whistle, you dumb bastard!”
_* I believe that Peter Arno had the longest caption in The New Yorker. The piece prompted Harold Ross to write to his editors, “What are we going to do with this?” Details to follow one of these days. — MM
Seth Fleishman: He was a truly great man. And his work was just the very best.
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The Spill will continue to add contributions from Mr. Booth’s colleagues as they come in.
Finally, I also came to appreciate how George worked to create a seemingly effortless drawing, taping bits of drawings together to get the perfect disgruntled cat or dog into a larger scene, and how he carefully observed
WOW – he would enjoy this – it was obvious he liked his colleagues – but I was impressed with his block party (?) encouraging children on the block to draw. I am so happy that his colleagues weighed in …Kudos to them all.