50 Years Ago in The New Yorker

Every so often I like to take a look at a random issue of The New Yorker from well before my time there, or well before my time, period. This issue, of April 29, 1967 is solidly in the former category. The New Yorker was not yet on my mind —  I was in fact, just about to begin transitioning out of comic books, and into underground comics. My last (non-underground) comic book bought at the time of its release was this one, Superman and The Flash, December 1970 (yes, I still have it — I don’t throw much away).

 

 

Flipping through this Spring-time issue of The New Yorker, the first thing I noticed, besides the lovely Abe Birnbaum cover, was the  very simple Table of Contents, when the magazine seemed intent on just offering up a few clues as to what was inside. No listing of artists or writers, just column headings such as “The Air” and “Current Cinema”  — we’ve come a very long way since then.

Of the seventeen cartoonists represented in this issue, not one was a woman. This was a time when only one veteran female cartoonist was still on the scene, the great Mary Petty.  But her run at the magazine had ended a year before in the issue of March 19, 1966 (she died in 1976). The next female cartoonist to show up was Nurit Karlin, and she wouldn’t begin publishing until 1974. 

These are the seventeen  cartoonists in this issue: Charles Saxon, Warren Miller, Lee Lorenz, William Hamilton, James Mulligan, Dana Fradon, William O’Brien, Edward Koren, Ton Smits, James Stevenson, Robert Kraus, Donald Reilly, J. B. “Bud” Handelsman, Carl Rose, Barney Tobey, Robert Weber, and William Steig. Many of these names will ring a bell with New Yorker cartoon aficionados, and some names will ring a very large bell.  Edward Koren and Lee Lorenz are still contributing to the magazine.  Dana Fradon and Warren Miller are still hail and hearty.  James Stevenson, Robert Weber, and William Hamilton  were among the recently departed slew of New Yorker cartoonists this past year. 

For me, the most surprising cartoonist to see  in the issue was Carl Rose (“surprising” because I unfairly tend to place his work more in the 1920s – 1940s). Mr. Rose contributed his very first cartoon to The New Yorker in the Halloween issue of 1925, when the magazine was about nine months old; his last cartoon appeared in the summer of 1971. (Below: Mr. Rose’s April ’67 drawing)

Though he had  a great run in the New Yorker,  he only published one collection, One Dozen Roses — but what a collection.

 And here, for a little more on One Dozen Roses and other noteworthy New Yorker cartoon moments in Mr. Rose’s career, I’m going to lift some of the info from his entry on the Spill‘s  “New Yorker Cartoonist A-Z” section: 

this collection contains essays by Rose on cartoon themes. Especially of interest is his essay concerning Harold Ross, “An Artist’s Best Friend is His Editor”. Carl Rose will forever be linked to E.B. White for the December 8, 1928 New Yorker cartoon of the mother saying to her child, “It’s broccoli, dear.” and the child responding, “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.” The drawing was by Rose, the caption was adapted by White from Rose’s original idea (for a slighty expanded explanation go here). Rose also had a Thurber connection. In 1932, Rose submitted a drawing captioned, “Touche!” of two fencers, one of whom has just cut off the head of the other. Harold Ross ( according to Thurber in The Years With Ross) thinking the Rose version “too bloody” suggested Thurber do the drawing because “Thurber’s people have no blood. You can put their heads back on and they’re as good as new.” The drawing appeared December 3, 1932.

One last thing about Carl Rose: there aren’t a lot of photographs of him around but when Irving Penn (whose work is now being celebrated at New York’s  Metropolitan Museum), photographed a number of The New Yorker‘s artists in 1947 for a spread in Vogue, an unassuming looking Carl Rose was right up there on the top-most platform with Otto Soglow and Alajalov, seated just behind Charles Addams. Among the others in the photo: Steinberg, Steig, Helen Hokinson, George Price, Richard Taylor, Perry Barlow, Barney Tobey,  Barbara Shermund and Whitney Darrow, Jr. —  an array, if ever there was one, of New Yorker cartoonist royalty. 

Getting back to Mr. Rose’s colleagues work appearing in the April issue, the magazine was, in 1967, still laying-out the cartoons with the graphic gusto it always had: a beautiful full page by O’Brien , an equally beautiful half-page Warren Miller drawing;  other drawings were run in various shapes and sizes.  The subject matter seemed to be bridging the older New Yorker art with the new: businessmen and housewives appear, as do people dealing with obviously modern cultural keystones such as  long-haired men and  hip young woman;  personal computers courtesy of Donald Reilly and  politics via Lee Lorenz, whose drawing depicts Robert Kennedy photo bombing a couples vacation picture. Dana Fradon’s drawing, about recharging electric cars,  could’ve run in modern times.  Needless to say (so why am I saying it?) that the issue was a blast to look through.  The cartoonists were in top form, providing us with a lot, a whole lot, to look at. As Jack Ziegler told me in an interview last year:  “…it’s always nice when cartoonists know how to draw so that they can give us something pleasant and fun to look at.”

 

 

 

Society of Illustrators Exhibits Work by 45 New Yorker Artists

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As promised a few days ago, below is a list of New Yorker artists whose work appears in an upcoming exhibit at The Society of Illustrators. The artists included span the entire history of The New Yorker, beginning with early masters, Helen Hokinson, Peter Arno and Gluyas Williams right up through many of today’s most exciting and incredibly funny contributors.

 

 

Ed Arno, Peter Arno, Charles Barsotti, David Borchart, John Caldwell, Roz Chast, Richard Cline, Joe Dator, Drew Dernavich, Matthew Diffee, Liza Donnelly, Bob Eckstein, Dana Fradon, Felipe Galindo, Sam Gross, Larry Hat, Helen Hokinson, Zachary Kanin, Nurit Karlin, Farley Katz, Robert Leighton, Bob Mankoff, Marisa Marchetto, Michael Maslin, Richard McCallister, Warren Miller, Roxie Munro, Paul Noth, John O’Brien, Danny Shanahan, Michael Shaw, Barbara Shermund, Barbara Smaller, Edward Sorel, Peter Steiner, Mick Stevens, Julia Suits, P.C.Vey, Liam Walsh, Kim Warp, Robert Weber, Christopher Weyant, Gluyas Williams, Bill Woodman, Jack Ziegler

 

Society of Illustrators Exhibits New Yorker Cartoonists’ Cartoon Collection

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On the Society of Illustrators October 2013 calender of exhibits: “The Collection of Michael Maslin and Liza Donnelly” — the exhibit runs from October 29 through December 21. (above: a Jack Ziegler drawing that appeared in The New Yorker July 28, 1980)

Here’s the event listing on the Society’s site:

Michael Maslin and Liza Donnelly, long-time contributors to The New Yorker Magazine, are also huge fans of the magazine’s cartoons, past and present.  For over thirty years they have been collecting cartoons by New Yorker artists any way they can (gifts, ebay purchases, auctions, and as trades with their contemporaries).  This exhibit represents the decades-long obsession with works by such cartoon luminaries from the magazine’s past as James Thurber, Gluyas Williams, and Helen Hokinson and present: Jack Ziegler, Roz Chast, Bob Mankoff, Mick Stevens, Drew Dernavich, Zachary Kanin, Barbara Smaller.

 

A Lecture and Reception will be held on October 30th to celebrate the opening of the exhibit.

 

Note: the exhibit, on display on the third floor Hall of Fame Gallery, consists of original work by approximately 40 New Yorker cartoonists, some of whom are tagged below.  A full list will eventually appear on Ink Spill.

 

 

 

 

 

Anatol Kovarsky at 94: Still Drawing After All These Years

 

 

 

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At 3 o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon in late June, my wife and I, wearing our cartoonist historian hats, were welcomed into an apartment in a pre-war building along Manhattan’s west side. We made our way through a short hallway to a foyer lined with paintings.  There were paintings on the walls, and paintings lined up several feet deep along the floor.  Paintings paintings everywhere.  All of them by the New Yorker cartoonist/artist, Anatol Kovarsky.

(to the left: Kovarsky, New York City, June, 2013).

 

 

 

Kovarsky’s wife, the actress Lucille Patton, married to the artist since 1954, greeted us, and a few moments later, Kovarsky himself appeared from a back room.  He held the latest issue of The New Yorker, and was eager to talk about an illustration that caught his eye.  “This was done with a [computer] program?” he asked pointing to the piece. 

 

 

 

When Kovarsky began his publishing career at The New Yorker he was 28 years old; he is now 94.  His New Yorker work, which began with a cartoon in the issue of March 1, 1947 (cartoon below), ended with a great flourish of covers in 1969.  After 1969, Kovarsky turned to painting full time.  New Yorker readers no longer saw his work in the magazine and on its covers, but his work continued and continues on to this day.

 

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For me, it was a rather surreal moment shaking Kovarsky’s hand. I had long ago placed him in my thinking — and  rightly so– in the late Harold Ross, early William Shawn era of the magazine’s history, what some have referred to as “the Golden Age” of the magazine’s cartoons.  In 2013,  if you count the number of New Yorker Golden Age cartoonists who are still with us — those who began contributing to the magazine during the editorship of Harold Ross — you will count no further than four: Frank Modell, Dana Fradon, James Stevenson, and Anatol Kovarsky.  Meeting these artists is meeting New Yorker history. In the past two months I’ve had occasion to speak to three of these men, and all three exhibit the playfulness of spirit I’ve encountered in most every cartoonist I’ve ever met, no matter their age.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                       For someone who contributed hundreds of cartoons to The New Yorker it may seem odd that only one collection, Kovarsky’s World, was published (by Knopf, in 1956). images-1Kovarsky’s Kabinett der Kuriositaten, published in Germany in 1962, seems to be a paperback reprint of Kovarsky’s World.

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I had always wondered why there was no follow-up collection – a book that would have included some of his scores of covers for the magazine. When I posed that to Kovarsky, he shrugged, and said, “there were some other books” – one in particular he seemed proud of is an unpublished illustrated guide to English spelling. His work found its way into books as illustrations ( Cycles in Your Life, and a book of limericks, There Was a Young Lady Named Alice). Kovarsky’s work also made it to the Great White Way; he designed and drew the sets for the Broadway play, “The Owl and the Pussycat.”

 

 

 

I said to him that I couldn’t help but notice, looking through his New Yorker work, that the majority of drawings were uncaptioned – to my way of thinking, the most difficult kind of cartoon to do (there have been scant few masters of the form: Otto Soglow, Sam Cobean, Steinberg, Anthony Taber, Nurit Karlin, and more recently, John O’Brien). Kovarsky said, pointing to this newer work of his — a book-in-the-works of drawings accompanied by humorous rhymes — that this latest effort “made up for” the lack of words in his earlier work.  He opened the manuscript and read several of the rhymes, then his finger ran over one of the drawings, as if he was redrawing it.      Pursing the Centaur

 

 

 

 

 

His daughter, Gina, a college professor who teaches Russian literature and culture, showed us some of her father’s recent work:  drawings on newspapers, on ads, on stock market charts.Market people 2

Lucille said, “Anatol will draw on anything” as she handed us two large round cardboard platters that had come from a catered event: each were painted over by Kovarsky.  A design incorporating an elephant on one, three nudes on the other.  Later she showed us two small cardboard saucers or dessert plates, also transformed by Kovarsky into works of art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had done my homework on Kovarsky before meeting him, looking through his entire New Yorker ouvre, and reading an extended biography from a conference volume about American cultural figures from the Russian empire.  Born in Moscow in 1919 to Jewish parents, he drew at a very young age, entertaining his classmates (behavior much in common with many cartoonists) – he drew his first political cartoon at age 9. After the Russian revolution, his family settled in Warsaw.Kovarsky studied briefly in Vienna (his father wanted him to be an economist), but then, according to his daughter, “he found a drawing master and shifted his attention exclusively to art.”  Kovarsky went on to Paris where he studied at the Ecole des Beaux Arts for three years.  The war was on in Europe and in 1941 Kovarsky was able to make his way to Casablanca, where he boarded the last passenger liner leaving Morocco for the United States.   He was eager “to see,” he told me, “what the rest of the world looked like.” He arrived in America just as it entered the war.  Kovarsky told me of the circuitous route he took from the South up through the Midwest and finally to New York City.

 He enlisted in the Army, serving as a cartographer and translator; he also began contributing cartoons to Yank and the Stars and Stripes.  He returned to Europe as a soldier, at first based in London, and then landing at Normandy.  He arrived in Paris the day after it was liberated from the Nazis, and was eventually reunited with his family, who amazingly had survived.  

 Back in America following the war, he turned to the world of magazine cartoons but never away from painting.  Lucille told us that the  large studio Kovarsky once used in lower Manhattan, was divided in two: one part for doing drawings, the other for paintings.  Lucille said, “he would switch from one to the other.” (photo below: Anatol Kovarsky and Lucille Patton, in the late 1950s or early 1960s)

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I asked Kovarsky if he was led to cartoons by the work of other cartoonists, and he replied, “No, they (the cartoons) just came out of me.”  While it’s not exactly clear how Kovarsky was introduced to The New Yorker,  Gina Kovarsky believes it was “very likely” that the enthusiasm and encouragement of the author, Herbert French, led her father to submit work to the magazine. Kovarsky had contributed illustrations for French’s 1946 book, My Yankee Paris.

 

 

 

The New Yorker immediately fell in love with his work;  Kovarsky’s  drawings averaged at least two appearances a month  (sometimes his work appeared every week of the month). His work often centered on the art world: artists in their studios, with their models and without, museum art;  foreign culture was also a theme of great interest,  specifically the Middle East.  Little of post-war American life escaped Kovarsky’s imagination.

 

 After a decade of contributing drawings to The New Yorker, his covers began to appear.  Kovarsky has said he never did more than six a year, and seeing them it is not difficult to understand why.  Many of his covers, like the paintings that surrounded us in the Kovarsky’s apartment, were energetic displays of brilliant color and action.(pictured below: A Kovarsky  painting, In The Ring, and a Kovarsky New Yorker cover)   Kovarsky:In the Ring

 

 

 

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Before our visit, Kovarsky’s daughter wrote to me of her father’s interests:

 

 

 

His eye has been attuned to beauty not only in pageantry and performance, but also at the bar and grill, the beaches of Coney Island, the boxing ring, and the supermarket.   (Indeed, his appreciation for city life was such that when I was a little girl and we would be going on walks, he would periodically draw my attention to the colorful and interesting patterns created by garbage strewn about on the streets, or by dilapidated storefronts with their torn-off signs). 

 

 

 

What he was doing was what all great cartoonists do: he was taking it all in, no matter what “it” was (Kovarsky continues to take it all in to this very day).

 

 

 

We were shown a brilliant unpublished cover sketch obviously intended for The New Yorker (it included the famous “strap” that runs along the left edge of every New Yorker cover).  It was a snapshot from Kovarsky’s eye, perhaps a combination of snapshots, with what appeared to be a throng of pedestrians on a major Manhattan avenue and  above them a collage of bright signage. An elevated train roared past above the signage and then,  the quiet grey backdrop of the city sky. We were also shown another  New Yorker cover submission with the strap section showing a commuter reading his newspaper; the cover field itself is a series of images one would see from a train or elevated subway.  It could easily be a contemporary New Yorker cover. Kovarsky Commuters

 

 

 

Gina Kovarsky has been spending her summer off from teaching cataloging her father’s work.  She has accomplished much, but there is plenty left to do.  She showed us three rooms filled – and I do mean filled — with her father’s work. Going through his drawings she found a number of folders labeled “Nyet” (Kovarsky is fluent in Russian, Polish, French, and English –  indeed, when we first arrived Gina and her father spoke to each other in Russian before switching to English). It’s a puzzle now as to whether the “Nyet” folders contain drawings rejected by The New Yorker, or whether Kovarsky pre-rejected them as not suitable for the editors.   

 

 Sitting next to Kovarsky on a living room sofa, surveying the living room walls lined with his paintings,  the hallway beyond, with paintings stored in racks, I said to Kovarsky, “You have done so much work”  to which he replied, “I am told,” he said, “that there are 600 paintings here.  I would like to do more.”

All work, published and unpublished, courtesy of Anatol Kovarsky. Photograph of Anatol Kovarsky taken in NYC, June, 2013, by Liza Donnelly. My thanks to Lucille Patton, Anatol Kovarsky, and to Gina Kovarsky for her invaluable assistance in providing images and biographical information.

Kovarsky contributed nearly 300 drawings & almost 50 covers to The New Yorker.  All of his work (drawings & covers) can be found in The Complete New Yorker, or to see just his drawings:  The Complete Cartoons of The New Yorker.   Another option:  any library with a collection of bound New Yorkers.  The New Yorker’s Cartoon Bank has a few examples of Kovarsky’s work for the magazine.

Although there is no website devoted to his paintings and drawings, Gina Kovarsky has told me that a website is a priority.   

 

 

Niculae Asciu, New Yorker Cover Artist & Cartoonist, Dies at Age 70

The long time illustrator for The New York Times,  Niculae Asciu has died at age 70.  Mr Asciu was also a New Yorker cartoonist and cover artist, contributing 3 covers and 23 cartoons  over sixteen years, from 1974 thru 1990.  Mr. Asciu was that rare cartoonist whose work, like his contemporary Nurit Karlin,  was mostly captionless if not entirely wordless — not one of Mr. Asciu’s New Yorker cartoons bore a caption.  His line, disarmingly casual but precise, seemed to echo elements of Bruce Petty and Arnie Levin, as well as his fellow Romanian, Saul Steinberg.

 

According to his New York Times obit (March 17, 2013), Mr. Asciu was born April 5, 1942 in Cerna Voda, Romania. He died  March 3, 2013, in Queens, New York.

(A tip of the hat to Mike Lynch, especially for the link to this translated piece on Mr. Asciu from cotidianul.ro: “He Died a Great Cartoonist: Nicolae Asciu”)