“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!

“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.

“Don’t you think we’re spoiling him a bit?”

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.

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

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.”

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 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.

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

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.”

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?”

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!”

“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.”

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.”

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.

“What did Dr. Phil say I did this time?”

“I have drawn for as long as I can remember,” says Ken, “equally as long I’ve been interested in cartoons.” The husband/wife dynamic is a recurring theme in Ken’s work, as in this cartoon and the gem below.

“Hey, I said I’d take the dog for a walk. I didn’t say where.”

Ken’s first experience with cartoons will resonate with baby boomers: He began by watching cartoon classics “such as Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and all the Warner Brothers cartoons. I loved Bugs Bunny’s irreverent humor.” Much like the irreverent humor of our golfer here. I don’t think this was a Warner Brothers inspiration, though. Ken has a miniature schnauzer named Louie. “Louie frequently finds his way into many of my gag cartoons. He’s that kind of dog.”

“You’ve been watching too many of those CSI shows.”

Whoa—chalk games have changed since I was a kid. Here’s that irreverent humor again. Ken’s cartoon hero is Charles Schultz, who he has studied extensively. “Even to this day it’s not a holiday for me until I watch the various Peanuts holiday specials on television.” Oh, thanks, Ken. Now I can’t get that piano tune out of my head….

“You should start weight lifting for your health. You can start by lifting your weight off the couch.”

Well, that’s blunt. And funny. Since the Post is big on medical information, we are also big on medical cartoons. Ken sold his first cartoon to a tennis magazine. “To show how long ago that was, the cartoon involved Mr. T. being a line judge.” I tried picturing that, but got a headache.

“My dad says that I’m so good, I don’t need to practice anymore.”

Heartwarming parental encouragement. Besides the schnauzer, Louie, Ken, and his wife Judy also have a son, Kenny, whom I suspect has “sort of” shown up in a few Post cartoons.

“I’d like a table near an exit. I’m meeting a blind date.”

A good cartoonist knows what you’re thinking even if you wouldn’t say it. Or maybe you would.

“Mr. Fixit, meet Mr. Broke it.”

“I have always considered being published in certain magazines as career milestones. The Saturday Evening Post is high on my list.” I can safely state that The Post is delighted to have some of the best cartoonists in the business—like Ken.

“Get Washboard Abs!”

This cartoon illustrating the generation gap is a favorite of mine. It makes me think: Of course gramps wouldn’t know the word “abs.” And what kid these days would know what a washboard was?

After graduating from Tucson High School, Roy attended The Billy Hon Cartoon School in Los Angeles. (Now you know—there IS such a thing as cartoon school.) He took a Greyhound bus from Tucson: “I was on my way to become a magazine cartoonist and nothing was going to stop me.” Roy sold his first cartoon to a farm trade journal for four dollars.

“That was a very interesting cell phone conversation. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

A reader recently commented that a good cartoonist shows just what you are thinking. This is a prime example of just that.

“Warning. Reading all this information about the medicine may cause drowsiness.”

Here’s a side effect not mentioned in the data. This is one of three Roy Delgado cartoons in the latest issue of The Saturday Evening Post, a feat that has to be the envy of the many cartoonists who would kill for just one. Product details these days—TDMI (too darned much information).

“I’ve just accessed your school records. You have a lot of nerve complaining about my grades.”

Kids today—too smart (even if their grades don’t reflect it). This is another great example of generational differences.

“Look, if this is to be an amicable divorce, one of you will have to back down and take custody of the children.”

Love the custody battle twist in this one!

“This one comes with its own garage sale sign.”

Good point—why doesn’t exercise equipment just come with garage sale signs? In addition to frequent appearances in The Saturday Evening Post, Delgado’s work has appeared in The Wall Street Journal, Reader’s Digest, Good Housekeeping, and many, many other publications.

“Your R.S.V.P. for the Turkeyfest just came in.”

That’s one way to return an R.S.V.P.! Roy is drawing cartoons full time (luckily for us) in his mountaintop home and studio with his lovely wife and three cats. Continue reading The Saturday Evening Post for some of the country’s best cartoonists.