Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 7

Here is the seventh part of the book Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1973.

Chon Day in The Saturday Evening Post

Guillermo Mordillo

Charles Elmer Martin

Vlasta Zábranský for Rohác

Charles Addams for the New Yorker.This cartoon isn't that different from what's been going on in Brooklyn for the past ten years.

Editor John Bailey writes of the cartoonist in the introduction to the book:

The fascinating thing is, one cannot tell before meeting him whether an artist will be like his work, or will not be. Charles Addams does look slightly sinister, but the moment he speaks you realize he is not going to behead you. He is gentle and cultivated, and his creeping creatures are strictly the creation of his genuine spooky imagination.

Hans Moser

Donald Reilly for The New Yorker

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Editions Denoël

Pit Grove

Adolf Born for Dikobraz

Whitney Darrow, Jr.

Great Cartoons of the World Series 7, part 6

Another Saturday, so here again are excerpts from 1973's Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7, edited by John Bailey.

Leslie Starke for Punch

Stanislav Holý

Chon Day for Look

Eldon Dedini

Vlasta Zábranský

Guillermo Mordillo

Boris Drucker

Mischa Richter in The New Yorker

Michael Ffolkes

Guillermo Mordillo again.

Jean-Jacques Sempé for Editions Denoël

Guillermo Mordillo

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

Great Cartoon of the World, Series 7, part 1

There were several volumes of this series, one every year, which I've been posting. This one is from 1973 and also edited by John Bailey.

Jean-Jacques Sempé

Michael Ffolkes

Jean-Jacques Sempé

Charles Elmer Martin, who did this The New Yorker cartoon, is written about in the introduction thusly: Charles Martin (C.E.M.) is an impressive figure who wears a light beard and looks like one of Robin Hood's men. He has a lively, inquiring mind, is constantly looking around to see what is going on, and has a vast appreciation of textures and moods. His drawings are surprising in their delicacy, at times approaching filigree work.

It says of Charles Saxon, another New Yorker cartoonist: Saxon does not look like his work—close-knit features, an open, alert expression, the solid muscularity of the athlete, and a cool, keen eye—but when he starts to talk about his work. He is emotional, even saturnine about life. His private sense of humor can rarely be detected in conversation, but it is sufficiently evident in his drawings. He has taken material of the twentieth century, has narrowed it down to a comfortable section that includes the upper middle drawer of the upper middle class, and has become a leading authority on it.

New Yorker's Stan Hunt is: ...an excellent example of the work matching the artist. He is hypersensitive with a special insight into the fears that haunt people—illness, failure, and that indefinable feeling that something will get you. All expressed in his cartoons right on the nose.

Boris Drucker is ...saturnine, gloomy, and philosophical, but his work is funny and gay. There is a genuine laugh connected with every cartoon he draws, and he is one of the best gagmen in the business. He looks like a Dosteofskian journalist leading a kind of Kafkaesque like, but somewhere in the depths of Drucker there is a lot of humor.

[Frank] Modell has what has been called “a ready wit”. His work is a true expression of his personality. He is rascally, cynical, and bubbling over with the fun of everything. Very little surprises him. There is not much naiveté in his work or in his nature. The subjects he covers are the subjects he is really interested in, and he does not force himself into any vein that goes against what he can observe easily in his life.

The editor in his intro doesn't mention the foreign cartoonists featured in the book, like Miroslav Barták...

...or Stanislav Holý.

Charles Addams

Forty years ago a plane crashing into a building didn't have the weight it does now, like in this cartoon by Pit Grove.