“Giant Clock on New Year’s Eve”– January 1, 1949

Not everyone has a fancy party to attend on New Year’s Eve. Some of us have to work, like this less-than-enthused office cleaner. The artist was visiting Gardone, Italy when he found a local to model as his scrubwoman and “invented a skyscraper to go around her neck,” according to Post editors.

Constantin Alajalov was born in 1900 to well-off Russian parents. They were able to give him the advantage of schooling, but his professional training did not last long; he had barely started at the University of Petrograd when the Russian Revolution broke out. He traveled around the country with a group of artists, painting posters and murals of Communist propaganda in order to survive.

“No Desserts”– March 12, 1949

Ah, so begins the New Year for many of us. It would not do to spoof a “stout” lady these days, but it worked in 1949.

Alajalov became the court painter for a khan in Persia. The khan was hanged by his successor, so there went that position. He moved on to Constantinople and painted murals and posters before landing in New York in 1923. Within three years, he sold his first cover to The New Yorker.

“Sunday Paper”– February 21, 1948

This late-sleeping Sunday slacker is one of my favorite Alajalov covers. The poor sinner really wants that Sunday paper and the milk for his coffee, but who is having a confab outside his door? None other than the minister, of course.

Alajalov eventually became the only person to do covers for both The New Yorker and The Saturday Evening Post, despite the fact that both magazines required exclusivity in their cover artists. He was naturalized in the United States and spent the rest of his life traveling and painting in and out of the country.

“Fall Gab Session”– November 7, 1953

This wonderful autumn cover from 1953 shows a gossip session in full force. It looks like the Smith boy is seeing the Jones girl and the ladies of the town will only be too happy to spread the rumor that they are in love—confidentially, of course.

“Trying on the Old Uniform”– 5/31/1958

What a difference 10 or 15 years makes! It is now 1958, and slipping into her old WWII WAVE uniform for a Memorial Day parade is not as easy as the charming young matron thought. (WAVES was an acronym for Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service, began in 1942. It was technically US Naval Reserves, but the term “WAVES” caught on.) What did the 1958 crop of WAVES think of Post cover? They loved it! The WAVES director asked for the painting to be hung permanently in Washington and a WAVE at the Anacostia Naval Air Station asked for 50 autographed reprints for her crew. The artist happily granted both requests.

“Alajalov Photo”– 10/06/45

The October 6, 1945 issue of the Post not only boasted Alajalov’s first cover for that magazine, but a playful photo in the “Keeping Posted” column. The artist is sitting in his comfy chair next to a charming piano. The piano, however, as with most of the room’s “furnishings,” is not real. “If a room seems to need a door,” Post editors noted, “Alajalov paints himself a door. If it needs a window and a view, he paints both window and view, and can thereby look out on anything he wants.”

Of course, the room has limitations as well as advantages. “Guests cannot sit down and stay,” editors noted, “which is a good thing, and Alajalov has furniture of any period…he fancies. He can have the throne Catherine of Russia sat in, if he likes—in fact, he can have Catherine of Russia, gazing at him in admiration and ardor.”

“Bridge Hand Disturbs Sleep” from 12/1/62

At the age of sixty-two, a retiring Alajalov submitted his final Saturday Evening Post cover. The December 1, 1962 issue depicted a bridge player distressed over a game where she should have bid this or played that or should not have withheld the ace of diamonds.

Roger T. Reed of Illustration House is quoted as saying, “When I met him in 1984, the artist was a refined and patrician figure, with reason to be proud of a rich body of work in fine illustrative art.” The artist passed away in New York at the age of eighty-seven.

“When Beggars Ride” by John LaGatta

In 1930, the Post was chock-full of fiction, illustrated by the finest artists of the period. This sophisticated drawing is from a six-part serial called “When Beggars Ride” by George Agnew Chamberlain.

At a young age, John LaGatta (1894-1977) came to the United States from Naples, Italy. Looking at his slinky ladies, it is difficult to believe his early art (while still a teen) in advertising often depicted working life, such as men in overalls. LaGatta went to Cleveland and joined the art studios there. He soon discovered that his true skill and passion involved painting glamour and beauty.

“Milk and Honey” by John LaGatta

Thomas Beer’s fiction piece, “Milk and Honey,” ran in March of 1933 and boasted this gorgeous illustration. One is put in mind of F. Scott Fitzgerald characters in LaGatta’s illustrations: everyone is stylish and urbane. And sensual. One website describes it well: he had an uncanny ability to make “clothed women look like they were wearing virtually nothing.”

“The Wall” by John LaGatta

“Juliette standing there, tall and slim and smiling, inspecting herself. And all the time, as the clock on the mantel ticked on, her span of life growing shorter,” reads the caption from the 1938 serial “The Wall.” The story was by Mary Roberts Rinehart, a very popular writer of the era.

Just how in demand the artist was is demonstrated by this quote from another big writer of the time, Clarence Budington Kelland: “John LaGatta is a Long Island neighbor of mine who is so busy drawing pictures that I have to break into his studio to see him. He is darn near perfect, or will be as soon as he discovers how dandy it is to waste time.” The chances of that happening were slim, as LaGatta’s work was found all in or on virtually all major periodicals, such as Life and Cosmopolitan, not to mention his ad work for major clients such as Kellogg’s, Ivory Soap and Johnson & Johnson. The artist with a passion for beauty was one busy man.

“Women in Riding Habits” by John LaGatta

This 1934 cover is typical of the over twenty Post covers LaGatta did: long, lean ladies in colorful garb. His art was a window into a world of cool elegance most readers would not otherwise be aware of.

“Ballroom Dancing” by John LaGatta

From 1937, this gorgeous cover fits in with today’s resurgence of ballroom dancing.

In a “Keeping Posted” piece in an issue from 1938, author Kelland further dishes about his fellow Post contributor, the artist. “Mr. LaGatta…is addicted to tea and cinnamon toast at about five o’clock, afternoons, and he does not believe authors are good for anything but to furnish raw material for illustrators to illustrate.” Post editors mused that if LaGatta wanted to get revenge “for this across-the-fence interview he can draw a picture” of his neighbor “in either a bathing suit or a picture hat. We won’t promise to print it.”

“Cat Pin” by John LaGatta

Stunning color palette. This 1941 cover is the last one La Gatta did for The Saturday Evening Post. The netting from the lady’s hat is entangled with her cat pin.

As the war years came upon America in the 1940s, the need for romantic illustration waned. Tired of the rigors of New York life, LaGatta moved to California. Although he continued his advertising regimen, he began to extend his interest to portrait commissions and teaching. In 1956, LaGatta was invited to join the faculty of the Art Center School. For nearly 21 years, he inspired the next generation of illustrators to hone their talent. He was known as a strict taskmaster from “the old school” but those that put in the effort were not sorry. He taught and worked until his death in 1977.

“Dog in Church”

The viewer hopes grandma doesn’t find out what is so amusing the boy in this 1915 cover. A native of Piedmont, West Virginia, Thrasher had excellent credentials: study at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts while still a teenager, then a traveling scholarship to the Ecole de Grande Chaumiere in Paris. Returning to the United States, he studied under renowned illustrator, Howard Pyle.

“Bridling the Horse”

One wonders if the grandma above would approve of this independent lady, also from 1915. Notice the banner she is wearing—she is a suffragette getting ready for a meeting. World War I interrupted the life of the artist who served in France and sadly, was seriously affected by poison gas. He returned to Wilmington, married, and moved to Long Island.

“Grandfather & Child with Horse”

Boys and horses were a common theme in Thrasher’s art (we’ll see a lovely example below), but for something sweet and different, how about this grandfather and child with a gentle friend? As much as horses appeared in his work, he did a delightful job painting people, young and old.

“Conference on the Mound”

“Conference on the Mound” was the first cover Thrasher ever sold—for a whopping $50 in 1912. Little more than a decade later, by 1924, he signed for a series of covers for Liberty magazine, for which he was paid a handsome $1,000 each (that would be over $13,000 today—a tidy weekly salary). Happily, he was still doing covers for the Post, and despite his fine arts background, his commercial success was impressive, with ads for Chesterfield cigarettes and Cream of Wheat among his prodigious output.

“Boy Watering Horses”

This is a beautiful example of Thrasher’s work from 1924 for the Post. One wonders how he could do a cover a week for Liberty magazine for years, a lofty task, and do a goodly number of other works as well. In this painting, it is a bitter January day, and this young man has to break the ice to get water for the horses. Notice Thrasher’s covers show little or no background details, unlike artists like Rockwell with his painstaking details of wallpaper or room decorations.

“Tipping the Scales”

“Tipping the Scales” is a popular Thrasher painting from 1936. The Post used it as a cookbook cover in 1975, and we have heard many people argue that it must be a Rockwell, perhaps because of the humor involved. And perhaps because many folks believe that Norman Rockwell did every weekly Post cover from 1916-1962, a physical impossibility, of course. Ironically, this amusing painting is from a tragic year for the artist. A fire at his home in December not only destroyed much of Thrasher’s work, but led to severe smoke inhalation and ultimately fatal pneumonia.

“Two Men in Deck Chairs”

Published shortly after his death, this painting again shows the artist’s delightful sense of humor. As if being seasick wasn’t enough, the smoke from his companion’s pipe is making matters worse. Perhaps he is too queasy to get up and move? Thrasher did as many as three hundred sixty magazine covers. (Rockwell’s Post covers added up to about 322, although he, too, did thousands of other paintings.) Had Thrasher lived longer, one wonders if his reputation would have rivaled the likes of Rockwell.

“Tex’s Motorcycle”

“When Stevan Dohanos said that he searched far and wide for a special type of motorcycle to paint,” wrote Post editors in 1951, “we got set for some fearfully technical details.” The artist’s specifications? “I just had to have a blue-and-silver one.” The object of pre-adolescent lust he found was owned by “Tex” Keeler of Georgetown, Connecticut (hence the name of the painting). Not surprisingly, motorcycle buffs love to buy reprints of this handsome cover.

“Wanted Posters”

Three young cowboys, six-shooters at the ready, are looking at the wanted posters in the local post office. Never mind the amusement of the postal employee observing the scene—the bad guys don’t stand a chance. Dohanos didn’t have to go far to find the young male models. They were his sons.

Dohanos, who painted 123 Post covers, was born in Lorain, Ohio, the son of Hungarian immigrants.

“Playing House”

If you were a child of the female variety in the 1950s, one of your favorite playtime activities was probably playing house. This was what girls did before girls’ soccer and computers. The refrigerator carton is dressed up to make a perfectly lovely domicile, and every considerate hostess made sure the dollies got their share of tea and goodies. Do little girls still play house? I suppose there’s now an app for that.

“Doing Dishes at the Beach”

This is called “Doing Dishes at the Beach,” but I prefer to call it “Whose Vacation?” Clearly Dad is relaxing, and the kids are enjoying themselves. Heck, even Rover is having fun. Looks like Mom got short shrift. I have to love Dohanos for seeing male/female inequities even in 1952.

“Lighthouse Keeper”

If a picture is worth a thousand words, this Dohanos cover tells a gentle story. The lighthouse keeper is trimming the weeds while the push lawnmower and the clothesline help define the times. The striking lighthouse on this 1945 cover was the West Quoddy Light, Lubec, Maine.

“Stop and Pay Toll”

Life’s little stories include life’s little irritations. Admit it, your blood pressure is rising a bit just looking at the woman holding up the line at the tollbooth. There’s change in here, somewhere. Well, we hope. Heaven help the people behind her if she left her change purse at home. But if they have a problem with that, they can take it up with the extra-large dog.

Unfortunately, by the 1960s photographs were taking the place of art on the covers of the Post. Dohanos shifted his considerable talent to a position as chairman of the National Stamp Advisory Committee. He is quoted as saying, “Artists are always interested in seeing their work reproduced. Imagine seeing your work reproduced 4½ billion times.”

“Toddler Empties Purses”

My favorite Dohanos cover has always been this toddler from 1952. Through the bedroom door, we can see the grown-ups having a pleasant get-together, but what they cannot see due to the stack of coats and fedoras on the bed is the toddler having his own rockin’ party. Unfortunately, he is having all this fun with the ladies’ purses, opening and scattering the contents: compacts, keys, cigarettes, sunglasses, money, and so on (click for close-up).

“Escaped Prisoner”

Back when jailbirds wore stripes, this escapee found a good spot to blend in. I had to click on the image for a closer view. Nowadays the jumpsuits are orange—maybe they pose as traffic cones? Pat Hardin lives and works in his hometown of Flint, Michigan. Hardin is a graduate of the University of Michigan-Flint with degrees in Philosophy and Psychology.

“What kind of bulbs did you put in here?”

Well, light bulbs, of course! I found this cute gardening ‘toon in a recent issue of the Post. Pat left the investigative field in 1983 to pursue a career in graphic design and illustration. Shortly thereafter, he began cartooning and discovered his passion. Pat’s cartoons appear in various books and periodicals in the U.S. and abroad, but he happily reminds us that “my very first national exposure was in The Saturday Evening Post in 1987.”

“Didn’t you know I was a family practice physician?”

Whoa, a new slant on the term “family practice”! I find myself wondering how a cartoonists works—does he draw with a computer device or what? “Once I have a gag worthy of carrying through to a completed cartoon, I work out the characters in pencil and then ink them on a light box. I usually use a rapidograph technical pen for this.” This is the kind of stuff I love learning from these guys.

“Has the medication had any other side effects?”

Other than the urge to brain my doctor with my purse, no. Obviously, it’s coming up with the gag that’s a challenge. “Too many people have the mistaken notion that cartooning is about drawing,” Pat says. “The real meat of it is writing. Great art and a lousy gag inevitably earns rejection.” He’s right—what’s the point if it isn’t funny? But above drawing ability, Pat believes “it’s important to study humor and writing. There are a number of books on humor writing that I have found invaluable in writing gags.”

“Remember: medical insurance is like a hospital gown—you’re never covered as much as you think you are.”

Now here’s a doctor who knows what he’s talking about. This appeared eight years ago in the Post. “I also found it helpful to study the history of cartooning itself,” Pat writes. “Besides being fascinating (Did you know that Martin Luther commissioned and wrote the very first cartoons?) one learns the rules of the modern cartoon and how they came to be. Knowing this allows one to know when it’s appropriate to break them.”

“I need time to consider your fabulous offer—give me your number, and I’ll call you back tomorrow night at dinner.”

Cartoonists love giving it back to telemarketers in spades. That’s because they know we want to do just that. “After many years of maintaining a separate studio I converted the upstairs of my home and now work there,” says Pat. “This has worked out very well for me, even if I sometimes have to look for reasons to leave the house.”

“That was the most spins I ever saw anyone do.”

Well, that’s what you get for showing off! I think this is my favorite Pat Hardin cartoon. Pat has a son, Trevor, a recent Columbia graduate, and a grandson, Noah.

“Improve Your Memory”

Self-improvement is a noble endeavor, as in this cartoon that appeared in the Post in 2001. Unfortunately, the woman still doesn’t remember leaving a pot burning on the stove. Dave Carpenter has enjoyed drawing since childhood, but he didn’t consider becoming a professional cartoonist until the 1970s while he was in college.

“This car was paid for by the last driver who tailgated me.”

I want this bumper sticker! Like many cartoonists we’ve met, Dave had to work a full-time job while trying out his craft. “In the early years I primarily sold cartoons to trade journals and eventually worked my way up to national publications.” His first sale was to Skin Diver magazine for $10.00. Those first victories are sweet, even if not particularly lucrative.

“This is fun, Henry. Why don’t you catch one?”

Dave “began studying a cartoon correspondence course evenings and weekends. After graduating I went to work full time at a grocery store and started cartooning on a part-time basis. I began to sell to a few smaller publications and eventually went full time as a cartoonist in 1981.” He sold his first cartoon to The Saturday Evening Post in 1987, and has also appeared in Reader’s Digest, The Wall Street Journal, and other publications. This fishing cartoon from October 1987 is one of the first Dave did for the Post.

“The pharmacy said bring back your medication and they would be happy to put on a non-childproof cap.”

Dave hits the drawing board in his home studio around 10:00 a.m. “after visiting with the morning gang at the coffee shop” and works unit 5:00 or 6:00 p.m. “I also work a number of evenings (unless there is a good football game on TV).”

“Waiting Room Tic-Tac-Toe”

Well, just how many old magazines can a person read while waiting for the doctor? “Over the years, I have seen a lot of changes in the business, especially with today’s technology,” says Dave. “I still do all my drawing and painting on the drawing board (not computer), though, I must confess, I recently found a ‘paint’ program on my computer that allows me to touch up the drawings.”

“Louise, maybe you’re overdoing the ‘forest’-scented air freshener.”

Nothing like that fresh pine scent. Just ask the moose at the window. And the bear. “For the beginner, I would recommend studying your markets before submitting,” Dave suggests. “Seeing what type of cartoons the editors prefer increases your chance of selling.” I’ve noted before how frustrating it is for editors to wade through material that isn’t even appropriate to their publication. Thanks for the advice, Dave. And for the laughs!

“Here Boy!”

Now, where is that dog? A reader recently requested information about cover artist Frances Tipton Hunter (1896-1957). Hunter’s career spanned the 1920s through 1950s, and like many female artists of that time, she frequently focused on children and pets.

“Girl and Boy at Soda Fountain”

This was Hunter’s first cover for The Saturday Evening Post. The expression on the little boy’s face when he realizes he forgot (or lost) his money makes this a favorite of mine. Hunter’s artistic talent revealed itself during her high school years. She graduated with honors from the Philadelphia Museum of Industrial Arts and did the same at The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and the Fleisher Art Memorial. She moved from Pennsylvania to New York where she illustrated children’s fashions for department stores.

“Boys in Principal’s Office”

In 1936, like today, when little boys get in fights, a trip to the principal’s office is in order. I love the anxious expression on the blond boy’s face. In the 1920s Hunter created a series of paper dolls for Ladies Home Journal that became so popular that a compendium of her doll artwork was later published. She also illustrated for Collier’s, Women’s Home Companion, and Good Housekeeping as well as being known for her work in advertisements, puzzles, and calendar art.

“Boy and Girl at Candy Counter”

Oh, gracious, this takes me back! I can remember having a few pennies to spend on candy and taking forever to make the momentous decision. Hunter was said to imitate Rockwell in her idealized visions of children. Perhaps this is because she never had children of her own.

“Little Boy and Winter Underwear”

The life of an artist! Post editors suggested this idea for a cover, and the artist liked it. She wanted to sketch it from real life, so she found a spot in a Philadelphia department store and waited. “Well, she waited and waited,” editors wrote in this 1937 issue. “Little girls came in, with large mothers, and stolid, big boys with small mothers, but not a small boy in the lot. Hours passed, with Miss Hunter waiting patiently in her corner. Finally, when all seemed lost, in came the pair you see on the cover of this issue. Miss Hunter sat bolt upright, all eyes, sketch pad ready. She wanted the expression on the youngster’s face, particularly. And then came the big moment—the small fry glowered and muttered: mother held the despicable woolies. Miss Hunter poised her pencil.

“‘Turn around, Richard,’ said mother, ‘and I’ll measure these against your back.’” Sigh. Somehow our dedicated artist caught the perfect expression and the cover came out great.

“Girl and Boy on School Steps”

Hunter painted big kids, too. In this 1940 cover, the young lady is concentrating on teaching her classmate the math formulas and he is concentrating on … well, I think you can guess. When Frances Tipton passed away in 1957, she left her artwork to be divided between the James V. Brown Library and the Lycoming County Historical Museum, both in Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

“Kids Riding Trolley”

This 1940 cover of a boy and girl was another of eighteen covers Hunter did for the Post. For others, see the Curtis Publishing website.

“I heard they were cutting back on the length of stays.”

Boy, hospitals aren’t messing around these days. Don’t let the door hit your stitches on the way out. This is from cartoonist and author Joe Farris. His new book, A Soldier’s Sketchbook, is about his experiences as a young soldier in World War II. We’ll show a sneak preview below.

“What a coincidence! I defended myself in court, too!”

Okay, any second now, this guy will remember the old saying “a man who defends himself in court has a fool for a lawyer.” Joe is an artist and a sculptor who has had many one-man shows and has also appeared in group exhibits.

“August! My gosh, I really overslept!”

Gee, is it August already? This appeared in the Post in 1997. Joe is a staff cartoonist and cover artist for The New Yorker. His work appears in many other venues such as Time, Newsweek, and The New York Times.

A Soldier’s Sketchbook

I’m always pleased to show off another great cartoonist and his work for the Post, but I also get to let you know about Joseph Farris’ new book from National Geographic: A Soldier’s Sketchbook. His close-knit family kept 18-year-old Joe’s letters home, which the author intersperses with his sketches and paintings.

Joe describes this sketch: “On board the U.S.S. General W.H. Gordon on the way to Marseilles, France, October, 1944.”

It’s difficult for me to imagine that the “hardened soldier” participating and sketching these events was still a teenager. The caption says, “The dash to Ft. Freudenberg – Maginot Line. Bitche, France – December 1944.”

“Sorry, but ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ is not a recognized legal precedent.”

There’s that guy in the pin-striped suit! You’ll see him in The Wall Street Journal, Barrons, and Harvard Business Review—and very often in The Saturday Evening Post. “I started doing business cartoons because I was following the lure of the existing cartoon markets,” says Schwadron (pronounced “Sway-dron”). So the character I’ve dubbed “pin-stripe guy” has been good to him.

“U.S. Postal Service: When it absolutely positively has to be there this year!”

Ouch. The poor post office gets no respect. “My first big cartoon sale when I was starting out was to The Saturday Evening Post!” says Harley. I wonder if it was this one from 1984.

“House protected by not having anything of value inside.”

“I’ve been drawing cartoons since I was eight years old,” Schwadron reports. “However, I never thought I could earn a living at it.” So he got a master’s degree in journalism and worked as a reporter and later editor for Michigan News Service. He drew cartoons in his spare time and “in 1985 I took a chance and started doing cartoons full-time. I’ve been happily at it ever since!”

“The correct response is ‘I do’—not ‘it’s worth a try.’”

Maybe we can place bets on how long this union will last. “There are a lot of rejections,” in the cartoon business, Harley says. “My routine is to turn out a regular amount of cartoons each day, send them out, and hope for the best.”

“Someone in our neighborhood must have won the lottery.”

Good guess based on the appearance of the three major news networks and the IRS. Harley may not have won the lottery, but as a cartoonist, he has arrived: “I recently built a studio on the back of my house. You have to be a ‘serious’ cartoonist to go to the expense and stress of building a home studio.” Another perk of the job: “If I feel like it, I can work in my pajamas and no one cares.”

“This is your captain. In the event of a drop in cabin air pressure, the oxygen mask will drop down, and you will be billed $2 per breath.”

I hesitate to show this cartoon from last year, lest it give the airlines ideas. “My niche seems to be business and topical cartoons,” Harley says. He advises aspiring cartoonists to “do the kind of cartoons you like and to find a niche that you enjoy doing.”

“I don’t care if you’re tired, Gerald. Get down at once!”

Harley lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, (where, presumably, he behaves himself in grocery stores) with his wife, a psychiatric social worker. They have two grown children.

“I’d feel a lot better about this if you had a co-signer.”

“Cartoonists don’t so much create humor as they detect it,” says cartoonist Rex May, who draws under the name “Baloo.” “There’s something funny about nearly everything, and it’s the job of the humorist, and specifically the cartoonist, to find it and show it to other people.” It may be tough to find humor in a weak economy—but Baloo is obviously up to it!

“He’s mostly adjusted to retirement OK, except that he keeps sending me memos.”

Rex has been selling humorous writing and cartoons since 1973. His first sale was to National Lampoon, and many major magazines have used either his cartoons or his writing since then.

“No, it’s not a review copy!”

“When I first started doing this, I was told to avoid cliché situations, like desert islands and gurus on mountaintops. Wrong. Don’t avoid anything. There’s always a new funny twist that nobody has done before. One of my favorite scenes is Moses… coming down the mountain with the Commandments. I’m sure I’ve drawn Moses more than Michelangelo ever did. Of course, I do draw faster than he did.” Okay, I don’t know much about art, but Rex’s Moses is way cuter in my opinion.

“Spit that out, Billy!—You don’t know where it’s been!”

Yuk! I don’t know where you found that nasty human—but get rid of it! This doesn’t exactly go back to dinosaur times, but I did find it in a 1984 issue of the Post. The cover story was about Bob Hope. Okay, to some of you that would be the Stone Age.

“The good news is that you’re going to put this little small-town hospital on the map!”

See? There’s always a silver lining. I thought Rex copped the name “Baloo” from the Jungle Book character. Wrong. It actually started when he was in the Army (“back in the LBJ/Nixon years”) and was put into an Urdu language class. “Everybody in the class got nicknames in Urdu. I got nicknamed ‘Baloo’ because I drew bears on the blackboard once, and ‘baloo’ is, of course, Urdu for ‘bear.” Of course. I knew that.

“Let’s just say we’ll do our best to cure you—never mind what the odds are.”

Does anyone else get the feeling this guy has a long way to go? During his nearly four decades of cartooning, Rex May and his wife brought up three kids; so, for the sake of security and retirement, he spent twenty-odd years working for the US Postal Service. “Plenty of humor material there,” he says. Ooo, I can see it now: A cartoon with Moses coming down the mountain with a stone tablet saying, “He had to do it this way because of so many post office closings.” Okay, okay, I’ll leave it to the professionals.

“I try to save for a rainy day, but I’m married to a gullywasher.”

I swear this guy is not my husband. Enviously, Rex lives “in sight of the Rocky Mountains” with his wife, Jean and their two Lhasa-poos, Molly and Rufus. He is drawing more cartoons than ever and his cute little characters appear regularly in National Review, Woman’s World, Readers Digest, and, of course, The Saturday Evening Post.