Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 2

More, as I continue to go through Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1972, like I did last week.

This was by Miroslav Barták for Dikobraz

Donald Reilly for New Yorker, about whom editor John Bailey says in the introduction to this book:

Reilly is a very conventional young man who impresses as having good sense and good taste, and as someone who would be nice to have as a brother or nephew. He is totally in touch with the twentieth century, hates the scene, but instead of ranting and railing in his cartoons, he simply makes very telling thrusts.

It's not possible to post cartoons from magazines of the past without running into racist stereotypes, and here's one again for New Yorker courtesy of James Stevenson, who again is written about in the introduction:

Stevenson looks like the last of the adventurers. One sees him in Kongkow, where the stuff floats on the water among the pilings, or present when the cops kick in the door, turning out to be a detective. There is a toughness of spirit inside him. But the work is sensitive and delicate.

William O'Brian did this one. He too is mentioned in the intro: One would expect to find O'Brian in a proper British club, holding a brandy snifter. He is somewhat vague, given slightly to muttering, and in conversation defers to other people. But given time he is a superior raconteur. He is subtle, but his work is comedic and quite straightforward.

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Denoël

Michael Ffolkes

William O'Brian again

Boris Drucker for New Yorker

Lee Lorenz, also for New Yorker.

Because he is blond and looks like the classical poet of the nineteenth century, one expects a delicate line from Lorenz. However, what one gets is a fat line of great strength and character. There is nothing at all nineteenth century about his work, or his very controlled thoughts on the subject of human nature.

Adolf Born

Boris Drucker

Charles Saxon, for the outlet for most one-panel cartoons, The New Yorker

Eldon Dedini