Betty Ford: The Surprisingly Normal First Lady

America didn’t really get to know Betty Ford until she was First Lady. Her husband, Gerald Ford, had been appointed Vice President in 1973 and then President in 1974. So, in 1976, when he began campaigning to stay in the White House, his wife helped by making national appearances on his behalf. Neither she nor her husband were expecting the warm response she received.

As a Post article in 1976 (“Ten-Four, First Mama”) explained,

Her naturalness and candor… won her even higher approval ratings than her husband, the President. It is not remarkable that a full year before the upcoming election, blue-and-white buttons popped up reading: “Betty’s Husband for President in ’76.”

Her popularity was even more unexpected because she was so unlike the usual candidates for First Lady. She was outspoken and direct. She strongly believed in women’s rights and in freely expressing her opinions.

“When somebody asks you how you stand on an issue,” she said last year, “you’re very foolish if you try to beat around the bush—you just meet yourself going around the bush the other way.”

Historically, Americans were accustomed to presidential wives with a serene, patrician air, whose first duty was being a gracious hostess. In the 20th Century, however, First Ladies began promoting social causes. For Betty, the cause was women’s rights, but it was also a concern for the everyday challenges American wives and mothers faced in caring for their families and their health.

Early in 1976, she found herself criticized after an interview on CBS’s Sixty Minutes.

Betty Ford and daughter, Susan, assume the seat of power.

She said that she “wouldn’t be surprised” if her eighteen-year-old daughter, Susan, decided to have an affair, allowed that premarital sex with the right partner might lower the divorce rate, and remarked that she assumed all her children had tried marijuana (they hadn’t).

Never had a First Lady been so outspoken… The first wave of criticism crashed in, causing Mr. Ford’s political soothsayers to fret and wring their hands. Americans who believed in old-fashioned values and virtues were outraged with Betty Ford. But then came the second and third waves… The people who wrote in, after thinking, were more inclined to agree with Betty Ford that parents who went through the struggle of rearing children during the “youth revolution” were familiar with the problems of sex and drugs. While these concerned parents were not changing their own standards, they also knew that the new generation looked differently at the traditional verities. In such a situation, the best course for a parent was to be available and understanding.

It was clear that Betty Ford was not detached from the reality most women faced, and she was willing to talk honestly about real issues.

Her husband was hardly installed in the vice-presidency in 1973 when Betty discussed her treatment by a psychiatrist and the fact that she took Valium or Equagesic three times a day.

She was just as lively when talking about her breast operation. “For those who have gone through it,” she said, “I don’t see anything so great about it. All you need is a little foam rubber.”

She also expressed her opinion on two controversial topics.

She was and is a firm supporter of the Equal Rights Amendment.

She had also made it clear that she supported the 1973 Supreme Court ruling for legalized abortion, saying that she was glad to see abortion “brought out of the backwoods; and put in the hospitals where it belongs.”

She also spoke openly about her marital relations.

“Betty Ford never hides her affection for her husband and is uninhibited about hugging and kissing him in public.” From “Ten-Four, First Mama,” Sep. 1976

Betty Ford never hides her affection for her husband and is uninhibited about hugging and kissing him in public… She told an interviewer that reporters had “asked me everything but how often I sleep with my husband. If they had asked me that, I would have told them, ‘As often as possible.’”

When Ford became President, Betty moved their king-size bed into the White House. There were many letters, in Betty’s words, “from people who feel it is very immoral for us to be using the same bedroom. I guess if you’re president, you’re supposed to become a eunuch.”

The Post author urged readers to look beyond these isolated remarks. The First Lady was no activist or eccentric, but a truly conventional woman, who read the Bible daily, often with her husband, sometimes praying with him afterward.

She considered herself a responsible, loving parent, who wanted her children to discuss their difficulties with the people in the world who cared the most—their mother and father. And she added: “My husband and I have lived twenty-eight years of faithfulness in marriage. I do not believe in premarital relations. But I realize many in today’s generation do not share my views.”

Gerald and Betty Ford in 1976.

The First Lady is in an awkward position. She is expected to display women’s best traits, virtues, and accomplishments, yet never lose touch with the hopes and concerns of average Americans. Betty Ford did this better than many First Ladies.

In later years, she had to confront her addiction and substance abuse. She readily shared her problem and recovery with America, believing that, although graciousness and elegance are fine qualities in a women in the public eye, they should never take precedence over honesty.

Classic Covers: A 1940s Summer

“Inn in Ogunquit” – John Falter

“Inn in Ogunquit”
John Falter
August 2, 1947

Post cover artist John Falter spent many vacations at this inn in Ogunquit, Maine, and we are told he painted it very true to life. The older folks have prime seats in their porch rockers for watching the parade of characters heading to the beach.

“4-H Fair” – Stevan Dohanos

“4-H Fair”
Stevan Dohanos
August 28, 1948

It wouldn’t be summer without the 4-H fair. This 1948 scene is also set in Maine, but by another great cover artist, Stevan Dohanos. The editors informed readers it was “the Skowhegan State Fair, a time-tested Maine recreation which claims to be the oldest fair in the land. Founded in 1819, the fair has been held every year since, without a break,” even in wartime. Here’s a pop quiz: What are the 4 “Hs”? (Answer at the end.)

“On Leave” – Norman Rockwell

"On Leave" by Norman Rockwell
“On Leave”
Norman Rockwell
September 15, 1945

This is my favorite summer cover. A lot of returning WWII soldiers were happily pulling hammock duty as in Rockwell’s 1945 cover. The artist borrowed the house from one neighbor, the hammock from another, and the dog from his son. An idyllic sun-dappled day of pure relaxation—and we wish many such blissful days for our troops returning today.

“Rainy Day at Beach Rental” – Stevan Dohanos

"Rainy Day at Beach Rental" Stevan Dohanos
“Rainy Day at Beach Rental”
Stevan Dohanos
July 31, 1948

Alas, not every summer day is sun-dappled; some are rain-drenched. Artist Dohanos had his friends pose for him with the sun shining brightly in Martha’s Vineyard. He took the painting home to Connecticut, sure that the whole summer would be sunny and bright. But “I had a marvelous break,” he said. “It rained for three days straight. I could go out any hour of the day and get rain research.” One man’s nuisance is another man’s “rain research.”

“Tan Lines” – Albert W. Hampson

"Tan Lines" Albert W. Hampson
“Tan Lines”
Albert W. Hampson
September 27, 1941

The pretty lady in this 1941 cover is learning a lesson relearned summer after summer. Tan lines and party dresses don’t mix. I love the pretty details on the vanity table.

“Housepainter and Bird’s Nest” – Stevan Dohanos

 "Housepainter and Bird’s Nest " Stevan Dohanos
“Housepainter and Bird’s Nest “
Stevan Dohanos
May 12, 1945

This is one of those situations where you’re an artist and you hire a guy to paint your house—and the guy ends up posing for you as a house painter. You know, one of those situations. The idea of the bird’s nest was the artist’s, but the house painter confirmed he had run into the situation many times. The painter (house painter, not the cover painter) said he always tried to give the birds as much leeway as possible, carefully returning the nest to it’s proper spot. The artist, Stevan Dohanos, noted: “I found out that the overalls he was wearing had just escaped being washed the day before. That would have been tragic, because it would have made them spotless and taken away that typical bag in the seat.” Well, what do you expect from a guy who does “rain research”?

Oh, yes, the four “Hs” in the 4-H Pledge are: “I pledge my head to clearer thinking, my heart to greater loyalty, my hands to larger service, and my health to better living, for my club, my community, my country and my world.”

Honey Pork Tenderloin Kabobs

In the midst of summer, I tend to grill out just about every evening. To break the habit of hamburgers and hotdogs, I find myself getting creative with kabobs. This recipe for Honey Pork Tenderloin Kabobs ups the ante with a delicious, tangy glaze (thanks to the bourbon, honey, and mustard) and the surprising addition of fresh peaches. It comes to us courtesy of the National Pork Board. Check out their website for more great pork recipes!

Honey Pork Tenderloin Kabobs

Ingredients

Mix first four ingredients in a bowl; stir well and set glaze aside.

Steam or boil sweet potatoes until crisp-tender.

Thread three sweet potato cubes, three pork cubes, two peach quarters, four green pepper pieces, and four onion pieces alternately onto each of eight 10-inch skewers. Brush kabobs with honey glaze mixture.

Lightly oil grill. Grill over medium-hot coals 5 minutes on each side or until thoroughly heated, basting occasionally with glaze.

Serves four.


Meet the Cartoonists: “thomastoons”

Once upon time two brothers were born in a quaint hamlet in northern Pennsylvania (Erie), where they discovered at an early age (10 and 12) the uncanny ability to draw their friends and neighbors as cartoons.
“Don’t you think we’re spoiling him a bit?”

From Mar/Apr 2002

Spoiling? Naw. Having his own doggie door in the fridge is perfectly normal! As well as drawing friends and neighbors, young Bill and Bob Thomas used to lampoon their parents, their teachers, and anyone else who crossed their path. Sounds like there might have been some trips to the principal’s office…

“Oh, no, it’s that ‘come hither and do the dishes’ look.”

From Jul/Aug 2003

As the brothers got older, alas, they gave up on drawing to enter college, where Bob studied music and Bill advertising. Soon they parted ways, and Bob moved to L.A. with his newly acquired princess. Ten years later during a family reunion, an idea blossomed: “Why don’t we try our hand at cartooning again?”

“I’m doing ab crunches. As soon as I crunch these, they go straight to my abs.”

from May/June 2001
From May/June 2001

This sure is a different twist on “ab crunches”—but just as true today as when we ran it in the magazine ten years ago. Soon the Thomas brothers sold their first cartoons, one being to The Saturday Evening Post. They have since had the pleasure to grace many (too numerous to mention) magazines and books. They continue to push themselves to find humor in any situation and are always honing their craft.

“Actually it’s working. I just thought my employees could use a little more exercise.”

From Mar/Apr 2010

Personally, I think this is a great health plan—unless you work above the 5th—uh, maybe the 3rd—floor. Besides cartooning, the dynamic duo also writes music and works in independent films.

“Quit complaining about erosion. It’s made you look 10 years younger.”

From Mar/Apr 2009

Another thing I didn’t know (but always suspected)—the presidents on Mount Rushmore talk to each other. And just like us, they spend a lot of time complaining.

“This is why synchronized swimming isn’t a Winter Olympic sport.”

From Jan/Feb 2010

Oh, so that’s why! I can’t help it—this silly ‘toon cracks me up. I asked how the brothers worked and Bill replied: “We do cartoons together and separately. We toss ideas amongst ourselves, then push each other to improve them. We’re actually Beatles-esque in our work approach. Bob’s John and I’m Paul.” Personally, I’d like to see a long career for the Thomas Brothers—so I hope Yoko stays far away.

Okay, I have to say that the first cartoon about the spoiled dog is my favorite. What’s yours?

Dry Facts about Droughts Past and Present

The news is undeniably bad. Drought has struck hard in 14 states. Temperatures have remained over 100 degrees with no rain in sight. Farmers and ranchers are facing disaster. Crops are failing all across the South and Southwest while fires are consuming thousands of acres of forest from Arizona to Florida.

And this may be only the beginning. Newspaper articles quote climatologists who say the drought will last for years, maybe forever.

Naturally, any mention of drought brings up comparisons with the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.

Yet, when you read the articles about the drought of, say, 1934, you don’t get the same apocalyptic sense as you do from today’s news.

For example, take Chester C. Davis’s 1935 article in the Post. Davis knew better than most Americans how bad the Dust Bowl was. As head of the Agricultural Adjustment Administration, he wrote about the previous year’s drought with a tone I can only describe as grim optimism.

Day by day and week by week, the tragic story of drought unfolded in the daily reports that were hurried to the desks of the drought fighters. Searing heat in July completed the devastation of a dry May and a disappointing June. The area of distress swiftly spread until, by late July, our maps showed an expanse of drought covering nearly three-fourths of the entire country.

Crop production proved 32 per cent less than the ten-year average. The corn crop was the smallest since 1881; the oats crop the smallest since 1890. Worst of all, on July 1st the pasture condition was only 48.9 per cent of normal.

As Davis saw it, the country had two choices:

Government inaction, abandoning the wretched individual to face the problem alone, [or] recognizing the drought as a summons to a great social effort. The preamble of the Constitution, defining promotion of the general welfare as one of the purposes of Government, was taken to mean what it says. The greatest collective power established by any people at any time—the power of the United States Government—came to grips with the drought.

The government could help, but it couldn’t solve the problem; that would would require farmers and ranchers to make better use of the water and soil.

No current program can beat a drought after it strikes. The best that can be done then is to spread the shock and thus lessen its force on those directly in its path. But we can consider taking out insurance against future droughts while we are still feeling the blight of this one.

The lack of a forward-looking land-use and soil-conservation policy can be remedied. Safeguards can be adopted against wind erosion, or dust storms, and serious water erosion.

The weather and the crops improved gradually through the 1930s, leading Americans to hope they would never again see such heat and drought. But they did. Just 20 years later, the Post reported that Texas was facing the worst water shortage in its history.

For seven long years … this drought has spread farther and farther from its starting point along the once-silvery Rio Grande. The old “dust-bowl” region of the ’30s is dry again. In all this area crops have been failing for years.

All that remains of the San Gabriel River in Williamson County, Texas.

Live oaks estimated to be 200 to 500 years old have died in this land. The toughest gnarled monarchs stood gray and naked throughout the year, too sick and sapless to sprout a covering of leaves. A Texas historian said, “If it doesn’t rain pretty soon, coming generations will wonder why the county was named Live Oak.”

At a livestock auction in this section last August, a graying man who had brought in twenty-seven cows refused to enter the ring and watch them go to the highest bidder. He sat on a corral fence with his back turned, tears streaking his sunburned face. He had been forced to liquidate his own herd months before because there wasn’t enough grass in his pastures to build a bird’s nest. This last bunch of cows had survived on high-priced hay until money and water played out. They belonged to his son, who would soon be coming home from military service overseas. Instead of starting life with his own herd, this lad would have to find a city job.

Farther down the fence, two cattlemen saw the father’s tears and averted their eyes. “It’s hell when it’s this way,” one said.

Amid these stories of loss, though, were stories of determination. The writer told of farmers and ranchers who, refusing to quit their spreads, switched jobs for a year to meet their payments.

In the Oklahoma Panhandle and Southern Kansas, scores of farmers have been riding in carpools every day to work in an aircraft-part plant at Liberal. In one Central Texas farming settlement, eighty-three men—almost the entire able-bodied male population—are driving fifty miles to work in a Forth Worth factory.

The same resolve was even more noticeable in Post reporting of the early ’30s. They told how farmers were enduring extreme poverty and fighting to keep their land and their independence.

It’s this spirit that appears to be missing from news stories about the current drought. There seems to be little faith in  human adaptability, innovation, or government agencies. Nor is there recognition that farmers and ranchers will learn to work with nature’s changing rules because they know, as Chester Davis put it,

With Nature, the future is always bright.

In devastated Karnes County, Texas, Dobie Gideon watches rain clouds bypass his once-prosperous ranch.

Classic Covers: Pull Up a Chair

As a prop or a story device, of humble wood or elaborately patterned, artists have furnished their paintings with interesting chairs.

Coles Phillips’ Glamor

Seated Woman - Coles Phillips
Seated Woman
Coles Phillips
February 17, 1923

This gorgeous cover from 1923 was by artist Coles Phillips, a friend of Norman Rockwell’s. Phillips was also an illustrator for Life magazine, and his lithe ladies also adorned about 10 Post covers. Here, he found an exquisite backdrop for his lovely model.

Harrison Fisher’s Angle

"Seated Woman, Adoring Dog at Her Feet" - Harrison Fisher
Seated Woman, Adoring Dog at Her Feet
Harrison Fisher
December 11, 1909

Years ago, I fell in love with an antique corner chair similar to this one. Alas, it was out of my price range. I’ll just have to be content admiring this one from a 1909 Post cover. Artist Harrison Fisher did many covers of beautiful ladies, but this one is from a particularly interesting angle.

Gene Pelham’s New Chair

"New Chair" - Gene Pelham
“New Chair”
Gene Pelham
April 25, 1942

Where there’s a chair, there’s a woman deciding where best to place it. For the sake of the deliveryman, let’s hope she decides soon. This is from 1942 by an artist named Gene Pelham.

Norman Rockwell’s Interior Design

"Decorator" - Norman Rockwell
Decorator
Norman Rockwell
March 30, 1940

The master of the house is viewing the situation with trepidation. Can’t a guy read his paper and smoke his pipe in peace without some female wanting to change things? This 1940 cover is modern and pretty—a very “un-Rockwellian” Norman Rockwell.

John Falter’s Humorous Twist

"Broken Antique Chair" - John Falter
Broken Antique Chair
John Falter
June 20, 1959

Beware of trying out chairs in antique stores! “After years of observing ancient chairs tremble and sway and utter squeaks of alarm,” noted the editors, “we’re relieved to see one of them (with somebody else in it) go ahead and decompose.” Well, that’s not a very noble sentiment, is it? One wonders if the shop has a sign posted that says, “If You Break It, You Buy It.”

Norman Rockwell’s Relaxed Fit

"Candy" - Norman Rockwell
Candy
Norman Rockwell
June 27, 1925

So many features argue against this 1925 cover being by Norman Rockwell—but it is. Rockwell liked faces with “character” over pretty models, but he seems to have chosen beauty in this case. The artist kept a supply of well-worn clothing and scuffed shoes for his models, but this lady is nicely attired. And Rockwell was also known to scrounge around town for the scruffiest looking mutts for a painting rather than this uncharacteristically well-cared-for cutie. So maybe it’s not a group of ragged urchins getting into mischief—at least the lovely wing chair is authentic and makes for a delightful cover!

Mediterranean Quinoa Salad

Quinoa is a grain-like crop first domesticated for its edible seeds 3000 to 4000 years ago in the Andean region of South America. Because it’s a good source of protein, dietary fiber, magnesium, and iron, quinoa has made a comeback in recent years. Aside from the health benefits, quinoa tastes nice, too—mildly nutty and seedy. This Mediterranean Quinoa Salad makes an excellent way to dress up this pseudocereal. And because it’s served cold, the light salad makes a nice antidote to summer’s heat!

Mediterranean Quinoa Salad
Ingredients for salad

Ingredients for optional homemade dressing

Cook the quinoa according to the directions on the package. (Tip: Use chicken stock instead of water for added flavor.) Transfer cooked quinoa to a large bowl and let cool.

While quinoa cools, chop peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, scallions, and olives.

After quinoa has reached room temperature, stir in all chopped ingredients. Add the crumbled feta cheese and the pine nuts.

If you’re making your own dressing, whisk together all of the dressing ingredients.

Pour dressing (bottled or homemade) over quinoa mixture and toss well.

Cover the salad and allow to flavor in the refrigerator for a couple of hours. Serve cold.

Meet the Working-Class Cartoonist: Bob Vojtko

“You wouldn’t believe all the stuff people had to know before computers!”

May/June 2007

Did your dad draw on the walls? Bob Vojtko’s (pronounced Voit-ko) did—and it inspired his son’s career as a cartoonist. “It all started when I was about 5 years old watching my Dad holding a comic book and painting cartoons on the basement wall,” says Bob. “I thought it looked like fun so I went and got some paper and a pencil and sat on the basement floor and started drawing.”

“You’d think my parents would praise me for making them one of the top 10 downloads on You Tube.”

 Mar/Apr 2008
Mar/Apr 2008

In this cartoon, don’t you wonder just what mom and dad were doing to become such a sensation? Bob got a job for the local newspaper in high school “doing editorial cartoons and a comic strip called Tombstone—about a vampire. I also published my own ‘mini’ comics that I sold for a quarter or 50 cents each. Some of them are getting a few good bucks more now on Ebay.”

“For more pictures, you can visit my Web site: www.ednasgrandchildren.com.”

Jul/Aug 2004

Good ol’ granny. After he graduated from high school, Bob’s dad got him a job at the meat department at the grocery store where he worked. “That lasted a week. There were too many meat cutters missing fingers.” He transferred to the grocery department and has been there 37 years. He draws on his breaks and lunch time—hence, “working class cartoonist.”

“Well, you’re still alive, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”

Mar/Apr 2007
Mar/Apr 2007

Love this doctor’s bedside manner… Besides The Post, Bob has sold cartoons to Good Housekeeping, Woman’s World, Reader’s Digest and American Greetings, among others.

“The problem is finding something simple enough that his father can play with it, too.”

May/June 2005
May/June 2005

Bob and his wife, Sue, live in Strongsville, Ohio, with their Boston Terrier, Massie. And whatever happened to Dad’s basement wall, you ask? We happen to have a photo…

The original cartoons that Bob’s dad painted on the basement wall when he was a kid.

The wall is still there—but probably not for long. Bob’s father passed away in 1981 and his 85-year-old mother is in a nursing home. They had to sell his parent’s house last year. “You can see the cracks in the basement wall,” Bob says. “I’m sure the new owners will have that basement replaced… along with the cartoons that started it all.” On a happier note, Bob’s cartoons will be around for a long time.

Cartoons: Heaven

What is heaven really like? Our fabulous Post cartoonists know all about it.

“Wow! You weren’t kidding. The triple chocolate fudge mocha cheesecake was to die for!”

From Jan/Feb 2000

Well, if you gotta go, this is the way. I found this scrumptious cartoon in a 2000 Saturday Evening Post and wondered how many other “heavenly” cartoons I could find. It seems cartoonists spend an ungodly (sorry) amount of time thinking about heaven.

“Sorry, you’ll have to go back—they’re resuscitating you down there.”

From Sept/Oct 2002

The very words you want to hear at the pearly gates. The next one has St. Peter saying what you don’t want to hear.

“Sorry. Looks like the guy who stole your identity got here before you did.”

From May/June 2009

I’ve heard identity theft can be a real hassle, but I never thought of this problem! Something else to worry about.

“Can I text just one last message?”

From Mar/Apr 2009

Okay, you just know St. Peter is hearing this all the time these days and is getting pretty sick of it.

“Sorry, but we’ve never gotten enough golfers here to make it worthwhile to put in a golf course.”

From Mar/Apr 2009

Ouch! No point in taking your golf clubs with you. This is by Ray Delgado, a cartoonist spotlighted in our last “Meet the Cartoonist” feature here on the website.

“I saw that!”

From May/Jun 2009

Cartoonist Roy Stark shows us just why heaven doesn’t put in a golf course.

“Oh, no! Not heavenly ham again…”

From May/Jun 2009

The good news is—there is food in heaven. The bad news—no matter how much you love ham and angel food cake, they get old after awhile.

Keep tuned in for our next “Meet the Cartoonist” post. And let us know if there are other cartoon subjects you’d like to see featured such as dogs, marriage, kids, and so forth.

Hoops, Bloomers, and Common Sense

In times past when newspaper editors had to fill space on their editorial pages they could always turn out a few hundred words on “safe” topics like the weather, the need for government reform, motherhood, or the flag. And—for many years—the latest fashion.

Any self-respecting publication would regularly critique the latest dress styles with heavy-handed ridicule and indignation about the decadent new styles. (“What, we ask, is this country coming to?”)

What brought this topic to mind was the anniversary of the Women’s Rights Convention, which opened in Seneca Falls, New York, on July 19th, 1848. The conference might have been completely ignored by the press had it not been for Elizabeth Smith Miller, who appeared in public wearing the first Bloomer skirt. (The name was only attached later, when they were championed by Amelia Bloomer, editor of a suffragist newspaper.)

Borrowing from Middle Eastern clothing, the outfit featured long, loose trousers that gathered at the ankle, which were worn beneath a knee-length skirt.

Naturally they provoked a storm of criticism. The press had endless fun ridiculing the fashion, which they saw as new, unattractive, and faintly masculine. Trousers had been an exclusively masculine trait in western fashion as long as anyone could remember. Any woman who wanted to cover her legs separately was obviously trying to encroach on male privilege.

Bloomer skirt.

The Bloomer skirt never caught on (in fact, pants for women remained an oddity until the 1940s), but they didn’t fail to gain acceptance because of the ridicule of male editors and pundits.

One of the biggest reasons that the Bloomer skirt went bust was its great dissimilarity with the height of high fashion at the time, the voluminous crinoline hoop-skirt. This contraption of whalebone or cane held a dome of crinoline over a network of hoops that often reached 6 feet in diameter. The skirt was tricky to maneuver; women had to learn how to pass through doorways or simply sit down without tipping up the skirt on its side.

What made the hoop skirt so impractical wasn’t its unpredictable movement but the tight bodice that was part of the outfit. While the legs enjoyed greater freedom within the skirt, the required corset crushed the wearer’s lungs in a vise of heavy cotton reinforced by bone or steel. “Why do people wear such things?” a Post writer wondered in 1856.

Is it because they think them beautiful, elegant, tasteful, or because they find them comfortable, useful, convenient? Not at all. Because they are in the fashion. A common custom makes cowards of us all. If the Parisian arbiter of fashions should decree a garb of plate-mail, we would hasten to put it on.

Although the author has no appreciation of the Bloomer skirt, he at least concedes a few points in its favor.

 

The advantages of a hoop skirt.Well, it certainly is ugly. But if it had come from Paris, it would never have been laughed off the forms of our venturous ladies. The subtle French would have persuaded us it was the most beautiful thing ever invented. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it came from the mind of an American woman, benevolently moved to lighten the weight of skirts which afflict so many females with incurable diseases, and impede and discomfort so many; and as she had no spell of foppery to weave over the common-sense of the country, of course she failed ignominiously. Ugly?—so it is; but did it fail for that reason? Is it any uglier than these frightful hooped skirts, which transform the graceful figures of our belles in to the semblance of diving-bells? [“The Philosophy of Dress,” October 25, 1856]

An English writer offered two more reasons the Bloomer skirt never caught on.

It was doomed to failure, even without a fair trial, for two reasons. In the first place, it only met the difficulty halfway. It was a compromise between the dress we now wear and that of the ladies of the East. The large trousers were adopted, but the tight-fitting body and corset were allowed to remain, and thus the most important point in the necessary change neglected.

 

Another reason, and which, perhaps, operated more powerfully in causing the rejection of the Bloomer costume, lies in the perception that most of the actions of the American ladies are unfeminine.

 

English women have a natural horror of being thought masculine, or strong-minded, in the extreme sense of the word. Had the reform commenced in any other quarter, there is little doubt it would have been carried out with success.  As it was, no one could disconnect [the Bloomer skirt from] the idea of the “Female Rights Association,” or some such movement, and hence the utter hopelessness of it being adopted. [“Suggestions on Female Dress,” December 12, 1863]

Lastly, there was the marketing problem of placement. Put simply, the wrong people were wearing Bloomer skirts.

 

When women proposed to wear a truly sensible and beautiful dress, men opposed it, not only by argument, but by brute force. The Bloomer is the costume to which I refer. Of course, when I mention it, men will have in their minds a picture of the Bloomer as they have seen her. They must try to remember, if the superiority of their minds will allow them, that the Bloomer has been worn only by old and ugly women, who exhibited the most hideous taste in its combinations. Let the young and lovely have a chance at it for a month or so, and I would like to see where male logic would be at the end of it. [“A Lady’s Ideas on Crinoline and Bloomers,” April 19, 1862.]

The shapes, fabrics, and colors of women’s wear have changed enormously since the Civil War era. And although it can be debated whether modern style is more attractive or sensible than it was 150 years ago, no one would argue with this one fact: Women’s clothing has become a lot more comfortable—with the exception of high heels.

Classic Art: Leading Ladies

“It’s Me Darling—Your Husband!” – Joe De Mers

"It's Me Darling - Your Husband!" - Joe De Mers
"It's Me Darling—Your Husband!" Joe De Mers December 3, 1949

“He woke to see his wife looking at him in horror. It seemed she had no recollection of getting married.” Don’t you hate when that happens? From a 1949 story called, “It’s Me Darling—Your Husband!” this is one of the many enticing illustrations by artist Joe De Mers. We like to call them our “leading ladies.”

“Clever Women Are Dangerous Too” – Joe De Mers 

"Clever Women Are Dangerous Too" - Joe  De Mers
"Clever Women Are Dangerous Too" Joe De Mers August 5, 1950

“The door opened, and Imogene made her entrance.” Did she ever! Move over, Beyoncé—this is the quintessential 1950’s hottie. “He was afraid of being trapped by some gorgeous birdbrain. He forgot that (here comes the title): ‘Clever Women Are Dangerous Too.'” Another lady by Joe De Mers, who looks like she might be a handful.

“The Lady and the Lion” – Perry Peterson

"The Lady and the Lion" - Perry Peterson
"The Lady and the Lion"Perry Peterson August 7, 1954

This dark-haired hunk is demonstrating a lion’s moves—for her own safety, of course. “He gets his paws on the cow’s back like this, and closes in like this,’” he says to the stunning blond. Looks like the lion’s paws aren’t the only ones to fear. This is from 1954’s story “The Lady and the Lion,” and the artist was Perry Peterson.

“Second Class Marriage” – Coby Whitmore

"Second Class Marriage" - Coby Whitmore
"Second Class Marriage"Coby WhitmoreJuly 23, 1955

“How soon, Mary Jo?” Shelby was saying. “How soon can you do something about—him?” What the heck was going on in the ’50s? A folksy, down-home magazine cover, but inside… steam heat! Like many Post cover artists, Coby Whitmore did inside illustrations, too. This one comes from the story “Second Class Marriage” in 1955.

“Girl Shy” – Bob Hilbert 

"Girl Shy" - Bob Hilbert
"Girl Shy" Bob Hilbert August 13, 1955

The title of the story was “Girl Shy” from 1955. Well, he may be shy, but she definitely isn’t! Pinning him down with a kiss, she says “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Willy Teeden—here!” Geeze, a guy couldn’t even eat his lunch without some blond nailing him.

“A Man In Her Room” – Edwin Georgi

"A Man In Her Room" -  Edwin Georgi
"A Man In Her Room" Edwin Georgi November 18, 1950

When her fiance and his mother walked in, they were scandalized. They obviously didn’t expect to find “A Man In Her Room.” Her future mother-in-law was not appeased with her assertion, “It’s only Clary.” This illustration ran with the story in 1950. I can guarantee if this ran in the magazine today, we would get letters of complaint from some of our older readers. I don’t know if that means we’ve progressed or regressed. But if these temptresses are getting to you, you can get reprints of these sassy sirens. They’re eye-catching and fun in any room. Contact www:curtispublishing.com for details, or just to browse through more “Leading Ladies.” Click Here

Anytime Popovers

Popovers are light, tasty rolls descended from England’s Yorkshire pudding. These hollow treats get their name from their shape: The batter “pops over” the top of the muffin tin while they’re baking. Popovers are a great snack for any time of the day—and the batch we baked sure were popular here at the Post!

Anytime Popovers

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Grease custard cups or deep muffin tins.

Beat eggs until light in color. Add flour, salt, and milk and beat until smooth. Stir in oil and pour into cups or tins, filling each halfway.

Bake 30 minutes. Remove from pans and serve immediately.

“What a Woman!” The Story of Dorothy Thompson and Sinclair Lewis

The intelligence and intensity of Dorothy Thompson, which made her so successful as a reporter, could be nearly overwhelming in person. She attracted a great many admirers for her work—and for her personality. Post writer Jack Alexander tried to capture some of the force of her character in a 1940 article.

Great as her gifts, objectivity toward herself has never been one of them. She is one of the most extroverted of humans, aggressively gregarious and tireless in debate. For combined intellectual, physical, and emotional energy, she has no known equal, male or female.

Miss Thompson is statuesque and handsome. She is a master of the dramatic entrance and immediately makes herself the center of attention whenever she enters a roomful of people. It works unfailingly, whether the occasion is a birthday party for someone else, a cocktail soiree, or a christening. Women who go to the same social affairs begin by being annoyed and wind up sitting things out in a cold fury. The men surround miss Thompson and hang on her words.

It was inevitable that such a woman would find a determined admirer. In her case, the admirer was the Nobel-winning author, Sinclair Lewis. He first saw her in Berlin while he was on a book tour of Europe. With one look, he cancelled his tour and begged a friend to introduce him to Ms. Thompson at dinner that night.

Thus began one of the strangest of courtships. During the supper, Lewis’ eyes hardly left his hostess, and after the table had been cleared he maneuvered her into a corner and asked point-blank whether she would marry him.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want to build a lovely house in Vermont and you are the only person I ever met that I wanted to share it with,” Lewis replied.

“That isn’t a good enough reason, but thank you very much—especially for asking me on this particular day,” Miss Thompson said. [It was both Ms. Thompson’s birthday and the day her divorce became official.]

Lewis said that his own divorce was not final as yet, but added, “I’m going to propose to you every time I see you, and from now on, in public and in private.”

Dorothy Thompson, newspaper columnist recently returned from Europe, calls on President Roosevelt at the White House.

Two days later his publisher arrived in Berlin and gave a public dinner in Lewis’ honor. Lewis insisted that Miss Thompson attend too. When called upon for a speech, the novelist arose and, ignoring everything else, faced her.

“Dorothy,” he said, “will you marry me?”  That was all there was to the speech.

Rioting broke out in Vienna a few days later and Miss Thompson left for Tempelhof airdrome to charter an airplane. Lewis, getting wind of her departure, taxicabbed after her. He hated airplanes and had never ridden in one, but he jumped in alongside her. “Marry me, Dorothy, will you?” he asked. Frances Gunther, the wife of John Gunther, who had come to see Miss Thompson off, was pressed into service as a chaperone, and the ship took off with Lewis grimly holding on to the armrests.

A low-hanging fog made visibility almost zero and for a couple of hours the plane yawed and groaned over roofs and treetops, then turned back to Tempelhof to wait for better weather. Lewis’ normally ruddy face showed signs of paleness, but he was aboard when the plane departed again. At the Vienna airport Miss Thompson bolted away in a cab and Lewis pursued her in another.

During the week that disorders lasted, Lewis proposed several times a day. Miss Thompson told him that she would consider his request if he wrote his own impressions of the riots for the Public Ledger syndicate. He did, at space rates.

In the fall, Miss Thompson slipped out of Berlin and flew to Moscow to cover the tenth anniversary of the Bolshevist revolution. The love-and-air-sick novelist flew after her. Lewis, whose interest in the Russian experiment was nil, was nevertheless rated a great man in the Soviet Union, where his novels were widely read in translation. News of his flight had preceded him and a delegation of notables met him at the air field with a brass band.

The band played a welcoming hymn. The chairman of the committee delivered an address of greeting. Then, perhaps in the hope of evoking a plug for the anniversary, he asked the author why he had come to Moscow.

“To see Dorothy,” was the reply.

The chairman, puzzled, asked him again.

“Dorothy,” Lewis explained, “just Dorothy.”

During the celebration, the Russians never did get to understand Lewis, and he wasn’t interested in understanding them. But the trip was a success for him. He got in dozens of proposals in Red Square when the tanks passing in review weren’t making too much noise.

Dorothy Thompson at a dinner party.

In March, 1928, Miss Thompson gave up her job in Berlin, preparatory to her marriage to Lewis in the Savoy Chapel, in London. For a honeymoon, they toured the English countryside in an automobile trailer which Lewis had bought in a moment of whimsey.  Trailers were an American oddity at the time, and everywhere the honeymooners went they aroused the curiosity of the simple natives.

Afterward, they lived a helter-skelter life. Lewis bought a farm in Vermont and a house in Bronxville, and when they weren’t living in one of these places they were traveling about Europe. Dorothy bore a son, Michael, who, in the fullness of time, learned to defeat her in argument, which is more than anyone else has succeeded in doing, and to put castor oil in her company cocktail shaker.

The movie inspired by Dorothy Thompson’s career, “Woman of the Year,” concerned a pair of writers juggling their careers and their marriage. The movie was successful partly because of the chemistry between Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy and partly because the writer didn’t try to write a script as unbelievable as the true-life courtship of Thompson and Lewis.

Meet the Cartoonist: Edouard Blais

“Oh drat! Your father has the car keys.”

From Mar/Apr 2005

I should be saying something like, “Oh, that’s cold!” but I’m too busy laughing. Cartoonist Edouard “Ed” Blais (pronounced “blaze”) was born and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota. “I actually started cartooning in 1963. But at that time, I was teaching full time, assistant coach in two varsity sports, and had three small children… So, my cartoon career had to be put on hold.”

“Better hand me that road map again.”

From May/June 2000

Vacationing with this guy is no picnic, either. As a second career (he taught art for thirty-two years), Ed has been cartooning for thirty years, being published in magazines, newspapers, and trade journals across the United States and Canada. “Several years before I retired from teaching I began drawing again. I didn’t like the sound of ‘being retired.’ It sounded too much like being put out to pasture.”

“So what part of ‘Do Not Feed the Bears’ don’t you understand?”

From Sept/Oct 2004

These characters seem to have troublesome vacations. We’ll just dedicate this one to all those park rangers who are tired of people ignoring signs.

“We wouldn’t be in this predicament if we’d had tougher immigration laws!”

From May/June 2008

“I was influenced early by Virgil Parch and Al Capp. And I had a mad crush on Moonbeam McSwine,” Ed says. Moonbeam was a kind of 1930s-60s Daisy Duke, animation style. Who wouldn’t fall for a ridiculously shapely, corncob-pipe-smoking hottie who loved spending quality time with the hogs?

“Well, I’ll be… It’s Larry King.”

From Jan/Feb 2008

Listening to the seashell is one of those clichés cartoonists love (like the deserted island, the psychiatrist’s couch, the pearly gates, and so on). This was pure serendipity—the cartoon arrived just as we were doing a cover story on Larry King. We hope Larry liked it. It also shows you how quickly cartoons can become dated—this is from 2008. Even so, I don’t think “Well, I’ll be… It’s Piers Morgan” has quite the same ring to it.

“Of course you can eat whatever you want. You can also be buried wherever you want.”

From Jan/Feb 2003

Ouch. There’s nothing like a doctor who tells it like it is. Ed and his wife presently live in Robbinsdale, Minnesota, with a cat and a dog. They have three grown children. We’ll continue featuring Ed’s crazy characters in the pages of The Saturday Evening Post—even if none of them look like Moonbeam McSwine.

Dorothy Thompson: The Real Woman of the Year

Nobody had to tell Americans in 1942 who the “Woman of the Year” really was. The main character in that movie, played by Katherine Hepburn, was a star reporter known for her determination, independence, and an immense knowledge of world affairs. Who else could it be but Dorothy Thompson?

Well before the war started, Ms. Thompson had built an international reputation out of hard work and a readiness to go to any story. One evening in 1926, for example, as she entered the Vienna opera house, she overheard someone talking about a coup d’état in Poland. Telephoning an associate, she learned there was truth to the rumor. She instantly left the theater, grabbed a suitcase of clothes, borrowed $500 cash from her friend Sigmund Freud, and boarded the last train to Warsaw. When the train was stopped 50 miles outside the city, Ms. Thompson and another correspondent flagged down an automobile, which took them within five miles of the city. From there, she continued on in darkness, dragging herself and her suitcase across muddy fields to avoid militia patrols. Arriving in the city, she was refused entry to her hotel and so headed to the American Embassy, stepping across dead bodies in the streets. After writing her story, she was told that all telegraph offices had been closed by the government. She immediately hired another car and drove far out into the country. She eventually found a telegraph station that hadn’t heard the order to shut down, from which she filed her story.

Columnist Dorothy Thompson advocates repeal of Neutrality Act to allow U.S. freedom of policy. Washington, D.C., April 26 1939.

This sort of determination earned her a posting to Berlin in 1927, from where she watched Adolf Hitler’s rise from beer-hall demagogue to chancellor of Germany. In 1933, she wrote an article for the Post that analyzed how Hitler won a free election to become head of state. Much of his success, she stated, was his blatant appeal to “fear, hatred, envy and above all, ignorance.”

This much was obvious after the war, but it was still rare in the 1930s when many people were undecided about Hitler. Some saw him as a viable leader for his country, a man who could restore stability to Germany and oppose communism. Ms. Thompson wasn’t buying any of this wishful thinking. In her reporting of the Nazis’ assumption of power, she proved to be one of the very few who saw what was coming.

The German people have not had Mr. Hitler thrust upon them. He recommended himself to them and they bought him. More than 50 per cent of all Germans politically minded enough to exercise the right of suffrage—and nearly 89 percent of them went to the polls—deliberately gave away all their civil rights, all their chances of popular control, all their opportunities for representation. The German people went over to autocracy in March, 1933, in a body, burning all their bridges behind them.

That the vote came as a shock to most English and Americans is due to a couple of illusions fondly and incurably cherished by people whose tradition is largely Anglo-Saxon. One is the illusion that all peoples love liberty, and that political liberty and some form of representative government are indivisible. The other is that peoples are less aggressive than their rulers. For, essentially, in 1933,the German people voted to fight; to fight the war all over again if need be.

In a few days Hitler and his private army changed the whole form of political life in Germany.

Storm troops of Hitler were in possession of the streets. And in the days following the election, the streets of every municipality presented in a curious aspect. Germany had suddenly got into uniform. A strange deadness seemed to come over commercial life, but in the streets a mass moved constantly—a marching mass, with banners, with bands and with uniforms.

No whisper leaked out in the Berlin press of what was happening under the Third Reich. Hitler, still speaking night after night, talked of brotherly love and German unity to cheering masses. But his adjutant, Goering, master of Prussia’s police, made no secret of the government’s intention to exterminate everyone who showed hostility to the regime. “ I waste no sympathy over the eighty or hundred thousand traitors under arrest,” he said in a speech—and the public learned for the first time the possible extent of the government’s roundup.

Dorothy Thompson in 1920

Many journalists continued reporting from Germany throughout the 1930s, but only because they carefully avoided reporting anything that would offend Hitler. Ms. Thompson wasn’t interested in tact or compromise. So, in 1934, the Gestapo marched her out of the country, making her the first reporter deported from Germany.

It was hardly the end of her career. Back in the U.S., she continued reporting and began broadcasting her analysis of the news. By 1942, Time magazine reported that she was one of the most admired woman in the country, second only to Eleanor Roosevelt.

Ms. Thompson would have turned 118 years old this Saturday, and while you and I might think that an advanced age, she didn’t. She told a Post writer in 1940:

She feels cramped by the limitations of an ordinary lifetime and often speculates on how nice it would be to live two or three hundred years. To someone who once asked her what epitaph she would like, she replied, “Died of extreme old age.”

Next: “What a Woman!

Classic Covers: Unexpected Visitors

You know that moment when you’re nice and comfy—or in a rush to get ready—and someone pops by? Post cover artist George Hughes knows.

“Home Showing” – George Hughes

Home Showing by George Hughes
"Home Showing"
George Hughes
May 26, 1962

She’s still in her robe and curlers trying to clean up while Junior and the cat make more messes. In other words, the real estate is in a real state. And here comes old Smiley, the real estate guy, with two perfectly turned out prospects. “Mrs. Smith, I know that we didn’t have an appointment, but we happened to be nearby and…” I don’t know the outcome of this 1962 visit, but I’m sure the refined lady of the house doesn’t end up shoving the vacuum nozzle up old Smiley’s nose. Pretty sure, anyway….

“Sunday Visitors” – George Hughes

Sunday Visitors by George Hughes
"Sunday Visitors"
George Hughes
February 6, 1954

I love the look on this man’s face. There’s no way he can avoid getting up for much longer. Artist George Hughes (1900-1990) worked as a fashion illustrator for Vanity Fair and other bastions of style while still very young. It wasn’t until 1942 that he landed his first Saturday Evening Post assignment, illustrating a fiction piece.

“Dog Walks Down Aisle of Church” – George Hughes

Dog Walks Down Aisle of Church by George Hughes
"Dog Walks Down Aisle of Church"
George Hughes
March 24, 1956

Here’s an unexpected visitor from a 1956 cover. The editors wondered: What the heck does Billy do now? Will an usher come and remove Towser? Will the dog hop into the empty space behind Billy? If so, what will the parishioner in that pew do? And if Billy gets up to walk Towser out, there’s no way his parents won’t turn and notice. A good Post cover engenders a lot of “what ifs.”

“Hitting the Buffet” – George Hughes

Hitting the Buffet by George Hughes
"Hitting the Buffet"
George Hughes
November 11, 1961

I laughed out loud when I first saw this 1961 cover. It took me a minute to find the unexpected visitor among the elegantly attired guests. Well, heck, it’s his house! After that 1942 fiction piece, Hughes was assigned to paint the top American Generals over wartime operations in Europe for a Post series called “These are the Generals.” Soon, he was considered as a potential cover artist.

“Bridge Party” – George Hughes

Bridge Party by George Hughes
"Bridge Party"
George Hughes
November 28, 1953

“Tough life, being a husband,” Post editors mused. “When, at breakfast, this one was warned about the bridge fest coming up, it didn’t sink in too well, because doesn’t a man have to concentrate on the morning paper?” This cover is kind of like the royal wedding: One can sit back and make fun of the hats. Having become more secure as an artist, Hughes moved to Arlington, Vermont, where he befriended other Post illustrators such as Mead Schaeffer and Norman Rockwell.

“No Chance to Be Alone” – George Hughes

No Chance to Be Alone by George Hughes
"No Chance to Be Alone"
George Hughes
August 8, 1953

“How unkind fate is to sweethearts,” Post editors complained, “how heartless painter George Fate Hughes was to bring this about.” And to whom is the guy at the top of the sand hill beckoning? No doubt his obnoxious brother-in-law and their six kids. This is from 1953.

“Sunday Visitors” – George Hughes

Sunday Visitors by George Hughes
"Sunday Visitors"
George Hughes
June 17, 1950

Now we can relax with the paper,” Mr. Conner thinks as he finally bids adieu to the Jones family. Alas, as they say in the infomercials, “But wait, there’s more!” Once again, we plaster on smiles and exchange “good-to-see-yous!” It’s Sunday, so is it okay to pray that this is over before the entire afternoon is shot? Hughes did 115 great Saturday Evening Post covers. Reprints are available at curtispublishing.com