Moms today may not have to reenact the American Indian Wars with junior in the store aisles, but that doesn’t mean multitasking with a grocery list and an active toddler is any easier than it was 50 years ago.

Popular artist Dick Sargent was a master of what art experts have come to call “sitcom covers.” Editors noted of this 1956 cover that Sargent, just to prove it could be done, borrowed a little boy to fit into a paper bag. “He let the boy’s father do it to assure that he himself would not get scalped.”

Sargent’s adeptness with facial expressions told the story: the mom’s weariness, the shell-shocked look of the grocer, and an expression on the boy’s face that says, “My work is done here.”

“Once upon a time a very small boy stood on the roof of the garage behind his home,” Post editors wrote of 1953′s Learning to Fly (at right). “He had made every reasonable arrangement to fly down. He had carefully studied the aerodynamics of the situation and met them with the most scientific equipment available.”

The cover was a flashback to a Nebraska afternoon when artist John Falter himself was on the roof of his boyhood home, as his own mother agonized below. And the boy, who grew up to recreate the comical events of his childhood for the enjoyment of Post readers everywhere, eventually found his wings.

“What is lovelier than the glow of carefree joy in the faces of happy children?” asked Post editors of this 1952 illustration. “Will the lady on the cover have the heart to defend her food and change those expressions to the pinched melancholy of starvation? She will if she can make it across the room in time.”

Sargent had set the scene for Crashing Mom’s Card Party in his dining room with real pastries, testing the self-restraint of his three sons. “The mouths of those sons began to water,” wrote the editors, “They watered for a week. Two weeks. Three. Then the sons were released at the pastry. They ate it so fast they apparently did not notice it was petrified, claims the fiendish father.”

There is much to be said about good intentions, besides the road to you-know-where being paved with them. Adding to the tension in this piece, an apple waits in the unsuspecting Mom’s path (no doubt left by one of her good-intentioned little helpers).

“My main concern in doing Post covers was trying to do something based on my own experiences,” illustrator John Falter said. “I found my niche as a painter of Americana with an accent on the Middle West. I brought out some of the homeliness and humor of Middle Western town life and home life.”

Like Learning to Fly, this Falter cover is fraught with enough anxiety to make the viewer cringe for Mom (and Dad). While the artist conveys enough despair for us to recognize that the situation is distressing, the overall effect is humorous.

In addition to childhood’s predicaments, Falter depicted a wide range of subjects, including nature’s beauty and intricate bird’s eye views of cities.

“Teachers don’t appreciate zingers …”

I wonder how much time the average cartoonist spent at the principal’s office. Let’s just hope your school year goes better than depicted in these cartoons.

“I figured if I have to be here every day, I’d might as well make a little money.”

This is known as free enterprise. It is also known as another free trip to the Principal’s Office.

“I suffer from test-taking anxiety, brought on by lack of studying.”

Yep, that’ll do it. I don’t mean to encourage deceit, young lady, but you might leave off the second part of that sentence next time. Just go with the “test-taking anxiety” defense.

“You said we learn from our mistakes, so I must be learning a lot.”

I have to say that, as defenses go, this isn’t bad. I don’t think Pop is buying it, but it was worth a try.

“Excuse me, but at what point during my career as a supermodel will I have need for English?”

I foresee another trip to the Principal’s Office. This sassy cartoon appeared in the Post in 1998.

“My parents think I watch too much TV, so I’m not allowed to watch unless my homework is done by 8:00 p.m., 7:00 p.m. Central.”

Geeze, where do parents get these notions? This is by Marty Bucella, one of the artists spotlighted in our “Meet the Cartoonist” feature.

“They call it the ‘Three R’s,’ and then say we can’t spell!”

Well, kid, I can’t argue with your logic. I don’t know if you’re “smarter than a 5th grader,” but you may be smarter than the average adult!

“Does your mother always sign your report cards, ‘My Mom’?”

Oops. This is from Bob Vojtko, who was featured in another one of our “Meet the Cartoonist” posts.

“I sure hope I grow up to be beautiful—’cause if I can’t get by on my looks, I’m doomed.”

One more, simply because I think it’s so darn cute.

“String Quartet”

As with many illustrators of the 1920s and ’30s, we were unable to unearth much information about Alan Foster. But we were able to find some of his irresistible covers!

“Sweet Adeline”

“Sweet Adeline” was a barbershop standard by the time of this 1924 cover -– and remains so. The song was written back in 1903, so if this hearty quartet wanted to try something trendier, they could belt out Al Jolson’s “California, Here I Come,” “It Had to be You,” or “Charleston” -– all top songs of 1924. It is intriguing the way the artist captured each face as the singer struck just the right note.

“Faithful Friends”

Outside “Dist. School No. 4” these dogs wait for their best pals. Foster must have grown accustomed to drawing canines: For three years in the 40s he did a cartoon series for Collier’s called “Mr. Fala of the White House.” Fala, of course, was Franklin Roosevelt’s dog and something of a celebrity in his own right. Foster’s cartoons might show the little black terrier traveling with his master or running off with a senator’s hat.

“Traffic Cop”

This 1926 cover shows us a side of commuting we just don’t think much about these days: early traffic signals, manually operated by the local traffic cop. The signal is called a semaphore, and a version of it first appeared in London in 1868. Foster’s traffic official is apparently set for the day, with his lunch and water supply at the ready.

“Hot Tamale 5”

This rockin’ drummer from 1925 is bringing the house down. Grandma would be shocked…actually, even her photo is appalled! Well, it’s to be expected with a band named the “Hot Tamale Five.” The meager biographical information we were able to glean indicates that Foster illustrated for several magazines of the ’20s, including The New Yorker, and, in addition to painting great illustrations and cartooning, even had a brief acting career.

“I Was Tardy”

Many of Foster’s nearly 30 Post covers were Rockwellian in nature: kids playing sports, or, in this example, getting in trouble in school. But there were style differences, such as the way kids are dressed. We don’t see the holes in the sweaters and patches in the knees we often see on Rockwell’s children. Props, too, seem neater. Again, what we don’t see is a well-worn broom handle or piece of broken crockery. Even the boy’s writing is perfect!

Illustrator Alan Foster passed away in 1969 at the age of 76.

“Second Thoughts” from August 16, 1947

Norman Rockwell painted many Saturday Evening Post covers featuring kids in everyday situations, beginning in 1916. Still going strong in the 1940s, the artist remained a master at capturing youth.

“Second Thoughts” from August 16, 1947

Striving for realism, Rockwell took a long board and stuck it out of a second story window. Then he told son Peter, “I want you to crawl out onto that board and look scared.” Rockwell models became adept at acting a part. Peter was not acting; he was terrified.

“We’re all on diving boards, hundreds of times during our lives,” Steven Spielberg said in a 2010 article in The Oregonian. “Taking the plunge or pulling back from the abyss…is something that we must face. For me, that painting represents every motion picture just before I commit to directing it—just that one moment, before I say, ‘Yes, I’m going to direct that movie.” Hmm, maybe we should all have this one on our walls.

“The Census Taker” from April 27, 1940

In 1790 the U.S. Government decreed that a census be taken every ten years to keep track of the ever-populating land called America. In 1940, this census taker shows up with his big black book to interview an ever-populating housewife. She appears to be much like the old woman who lived in a shoe, with so many children she didn’t know…how to recall all their birth dates. Or perhaps she’s even trying to remember just how many cute little red-haired moppets there are!

“Home From Camp” from August 24, 1940

Just as they do today, droves of youngsters in the 1940s made their way to camps for an outdoor adventure. This particular one came home with everything except the cabin, making it a perfect vehicle for Rockwell’s passion for detail. She seems sad to leave the friends she made and get back to real life, where it remains to be seen if Mom and Dad will go along with the critters she collected.

“Devil May Care” from March 21, 1942

Rockwell and his wife were not blessed with girls, so the artist must have located a young lady’s vanity among his neighbors. The background is even pink to emphasize that this is girl territory. Rockwell did have three boys, however, and this was one of them. If young Tommy Rockwell did have a sister, no doubt the little scamp would be having a ball sneaking a peek at her diary for the juicy stuff.

“Cover Girl” from March 1, 1941

People often call after finding old issues of the Post, thinking they’ve uncovered a gold mine. They often forget that for many decades, it was printed by the millions, and then the would-be nouveau riche take our advice and troll the Internet for sites that sell vintage magazines. They are disappointed to find an issue they thought was old (1940s, for example) may go anywhere from $4.95 to $25.00. On occasion, up to $75.00. With the exception of this issue.

Sure it has an adorable Rockwell cover, but that isn’t why this is the most sought-after issue of the Post. If you can find it, be prepared to pay over $1,000 because of its rarity. And the rarity is because of the groundbreaking Jack Alexander story, “Alcoholics Anonymous.” AA had been showing striking success in the past six years (since its founding in 1935) in achieving sobriety for the “medically helpless.” Thousands of reprints were requested and the article was key to spreading the idea that alcoholism is a disease rather than a character flaw. (Read more about the “Alcoholics Anonymous” article here.)

Groundbreaking story and issue rarity aside, back to our man Rockwell with his Saturday Evening Post cover-within-a-Post-cover. Leave it to Norman to show how yellow socks and scuffed oxfords contrast with perfect make-up and a sophisticated chapeau.

“Rockwell Models”

One advantage of living near Rockwell in the 1950s is that you had a good chance of being forever remembered in a Saturday Evening Post cover.

“Progress?” – August 21, 1954

This is progress? The construction crew is meant to build a cellar, but along come the local would-be All Stars pleading, “Gee, mister, this is our baseball lot!”

Rockwell gathered up models for this scene in midwinter by knocking on doors (in Stockbridge, Mass.) and rousting up members of the Little League team. My favorite touch is tiny Scott Ingram sucking his fingers as the negotiations proceed. The boy in the baseball suit is big brother, Kenneth Ingram. We’ll see Scott again.

The workers appear sympathetic, but we suspect things do not bode well for the great American pastime.

According to Kenneth, Scott’s best buddy was Eddie Locke (below).

“Before the Shot”– March 15, 1958

We recently showed you Eddie Locke as “The Runaway” (see: ROCKWELL: BEHIND THE CANVAS). The young man shows up on yet another classic Rockwell cover: as the boy checking out the doctor’s credentials before getting a shot.

The physician preparing the shot was Donald Campbell, a real local doctor. “Norman lived across the street from me for a number of years, said Dr. Campbell in a 1976 issue of the Post. “It was a familiar sight to see his long legs carrying him down to the studio regularly before eight a.m. “

Dr. Campbell continued, “Norman couldn’t help being nice to people, especially children. When my five-year-old Betsy fell from her bike because a little dog followed her, barking, Norman gathered her up, stopped her tears and took her home with him. With Betsy on his knee, he drew a series of pictures as in a cartoon, showing a little dog chasing a little child on a bike. The picture showed the little girl’s face with the caption, ‘See. The nice little dog only wanted to play.’”

“Girl at the Mirror” – March 6, 1954

Rockwell once called Mary Whalen his favorite model, even if the young girl on the cover didn’t think she measured up to Jane Russell (who did?). The artist captures the “in-between” age well between the cast away doll and the closer “necessities” of lipstick and hairbrush.

Mary’s first memory of the artist “was at a high school basketball game in Arlington, Vermont, about 1950. His son Tommy was on the local team, so along with nearly everybody else in town, Norman was there to cheer them on. When I harassed my Dad for a Coke, a friendly man sitting behind us gallantly reached over my shoulder and invited me to drink some of his Coke. That was the beginning of my admiration for Norman Rockwell.”

How did Rockwell get the facial expressions he wanted from the kids? “He would laugh and shout, pound the floor, or jump up and down,” Mary recalled. “He did the acting while I reacted. What a wonderful moment of joy when Norman drew forth from me the expressions he wanted. He would burst out laughing, with happy shouts. It is the memory of those triumphant, creative moments which I treasure most,” she recalled, more than twenty years later. “I can still hear deep within me his laugh of celebration.”

“A Day in the Life of a Girl” – August 30, 1952

Earlier in 1952, Rockwell did a cover called “A Day in the Life of a Boy,” which follows a boy getting up and ready for school, playing baseball, getting distracted by a pretty girl, and so on. A few months later, the summer version, “A Day in the life of a Girl” appeared. Both covers featured Charles Marsh, Jr. and Mary Whalen. Mary awakens, then it’s off to go swimming, where a young man promptly tries to drown her. The spirited lass returns the gesture, and it was love at first fight.

The last row shows a chaste kiss, which Marsh just couldn’t pull off. “I considered her my girlfriend then,” he said later, but I had never built up enough courage to kiss her. Mr. Rockwell finally gave up on trying to get me to kiss her and posed us puckering separately.” The ordeals of being a model!

“The Missing Tooth”- September 7, 1957

When Rockwell needed a child for a Crest ad (“Look, Ma! No Cavities!”), he asked his friends, the Morgans, if he could borrow their daughter. When cute little Ann Morgan showed up at the studio, she was missing two front teeth. Oops. “Mr. Rockwell went ahead and painted my front teeth in for the ad,” said grown-up Ann Morgan Baker in 1976, “but my missing teeth may have given him the idea for a Post cover.”

Living near a famous artist had its perks: “Being on the cover changed my life,” Ann said, “People were always saying, ‘I saw you in Chicago,’ or ‘I saw you in a drugstore window in New York.’ I thought of myself as a tiny little international star.” And the modeling fee? “$25 when you’re six is a lot of money.” Famous AND rich—what more could you ask for?

Having Rockwell as a family friend has its odd moments, too. The artist would call Ann’s mother “at 7 a.m. and say, ‘Don’t make the beds. I want to come and look at some messy rooms.’ Then he would come and wander through our morning rubble.”

Ann’s first love? Neighbor and fellow Rockwell model, Scott Ingram (above as the littlest ball player and below).

“The Discovery” – December 29, 1956

Poor little Scott Ingram—this unexpected discovery is suddenly answering a lot of questions. The good news is that this 1956 cover also made him a celebrity of sorts. He actually got fan mail and even made a television appearance with the famous artist. He enjoyed working with Rockwell, and looked forward to the end of each session, when he would be treated to a milkshake.

The painting is more multi-faceted than the first glance would indicate. The way Rockwell captured the burling of the wood of the dresser is one such detail. And life for the artist would have been easier had he just closed the door. Instead, he replicated the patterned wallpaper outside the room, illuminated by the light of a window we have the barest glimpse of.

Bobbing for Apples by J.C. Leyendecker

Before there were Rockwell covers, there was the great J.C. Leyendecker (a mentor to Rockwell). Leyendecker dressed up these adorable tykes for a neighborhood Halloween party in 1913—apple bobbing and all. This cuteness is quite the contrast with his Halloween cover ten years later (below).

Witches Night Out by J.C. Leyendecker

A creepy witch on a chilly, windy night – and a full harvest moon to illuminate her. Looking at her creepy face (sorry, lady), it is a little difficult to remember that this is the same artist famous for that rakishly handsome, chiseled-featured Arrow Shirt man and the slinky, elegant ladies and gentlemen in the 1920s Kuppenheimer clothing advertisements.

Halloween Fiddler by Norman Rockwell

A rarely seen Norman Rockwell cover from 1921 shows a fiddler at a Halloween get-together. It must be a lively tune, judging by the way he’s keeping time with a high-stepping foot. Rockwell did 36 covers for the Post’s sister publication, The Country Gentleman.

Lighting the Pumpkin by Eugene Iverd

This charming cover is from 1934. These kids are ready, dressed in their Halloween best and lighting a giant jack-o’-lantern. Artist Eugene Iverd did many of our best covers of children – see Artist Eugene Iverd’s World of Children, here.

Halloween, 1926 by Edgar Franklin Wittmack

This well-dressed young man is regretting going to that Halloween party – there is something very scary out there! This creepy cover is from 1926.

Witch’s Mask by Charles Kaiser

In this 1942 cover by artist Charles Kaiser, a little girl is frightened by the view of this witch’s mask through the window – which begs the question: was the witch winking before?

The Gossips—March 6, 1948

It seems Rockwell had a neighbor who started a disagreeable rumor about him. What can one do about a nasty gossip? Well, if you are a famous illustrator, you can paint a cover about it.

It started with just a couple of people, then it just grew, leaving Rockwell in need of more models. The result, said the editors, is that we see “almost the entire adult population of Arlington, Vermont.” As he worked on the project, the artist worried that his friends and neighbors might be offended, so he included his wife and himself. Mary Rockwell is second and third in the third row, spreading the rumor via rotary phone. In the gray felt hat in the bottom row is, of course, the artist himself (you can click on the image for a close-up). You’ll notice the lady at the end is the one at the beginning who started the rumor, and our friend Rockwell appears to be giving her a piece of his mind. Apparently, the neighbor who started the rumor in real life never spoke to Rockwell again. I have a feeling it was no great loss. The lesson here is: don’t anger someone whose Saturday Evening Post covers are viewed by millions.

No Swimming—June 4, 1921

These boys sure are hightailing it out of there! Even the dog is hauling tail (okay, sorry). Rockwell expert Robert Berridge wrote about this cover in a recent edition of The Saturday Evening Post magazine. “Franklin Lischke—the freckle-faced lad in the middle,” writes Berridge, was so taken with Rockwell’s work, he ended up studying art himself, becoming a successful commercial artist.

The question remained for decades: what were the boys running from? “Could it have been the pond owner,” Berridge asked, “an irritated bull, or a group of passing girls?” The model himself told Berridge. Answer at the end of this piece…

The Runaway—September 20, 1958

“The Runaway” is one of everyone’s favorite Rockwell covers. A neighbor of Rockwell’s, Richard Clemens, just happened to be a Massachusetts State Trooper and gladly posed for the artist, along with young Eddie Lock. After posing for this now iconic cover in 1958, Richard and Eddie didn’t see each other again until 1971 when they happened to find themselves sitting next to each other in an evening class (in logic) at a community college.

Besides the touching contrast between the large man and the little boy, there is a myriad of details Rockwell meticulously included: The old-time radio, the pies in the case, the coffee starting to perk and just turning brown, for example. The artist’s “mania for detail” extends to the stools: they were “spring-loaded,” causing the police officer’s seat to sink lower than boy’s. Even the chrome on the stools reflects the front of the diner.

“I’m usually more polite than this, but my mom says there’s no pleasing you.”

One thing I’ve noticed about kids and cartoonists: they say things we wish we could say. But kids get in trouble for it.

“I sure miss the good old days—before Mom got wise to me.”

I suspect mom misses the good old days before she had to get wise to you.

“Did you hear my dad snore?”

Hey, that was the coolest part of the service.

“Dad took me to the zoo. Our animal came in first and paid $18.00.”

Honestly, dads, you have to coach these kids better.

“I don’t believe in the stork, Easter Bunny, or Santa anymore, and I’m beginning to have my doubts about Alan Greenspan.”

Honestly, with the stuff adults tell you, how do you know what to believe?

“How’s the old prostate, Dad?”

There you go—get your facts from TV commercials.

“My broker says not to sell; I’m still young enough to make up my losses.”

Sigh. Oh, geeze, kid, I sure hope so.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Jones"

Rockwell arranged this “surprise” party for Miss Jones, of course. He posed the children in their seats and arranged the humble birthday gifts on the desk: an apple, an orange, a flower or two, and packages tied with string. I like the “Happy Birthday Jonesy” on the blackboard. Also the Rockwell details: an eraser and chalk dust on the floor indicate there was an eraser fight while waiting for the teacher to show up. The kid with the red shirt still has an eraser on his head.

But just as with the 1935 cover (below) of a teacher, Rockwell received complaints about how he portrayed teachers. Although a reader wrote that the artist captured “the full loving beauty of what is called ‘teaching’ in that sweet face,” another complained, why did he “make the schoolteacher so mousy looking”? Alas, even Norman Rockwell couldn’t please everyone.

"First Day of School"

Rockwell loved costumes such as these 1870s dresses, but moved away from that since people just didn’t care for these covers as they did the modern covers that depicted everyday life and dress. The artist felt that every schoolteacher in the country complained about how homely he made this schoolmarm. One must observe that the contrast with the friendly, pretty mother is significant. One might also think the teacher may seem a little eager to use that stick behind her back for any errant behavior. The pupil with his “boys-will-be-boys” bandage may have met his match.

"After School"

Back in 1917, Rockwell painted a very attractive teacher. The boy has to stay after school and write, “Knowledge is Power” on the blackboard an infinite number of times for some misdeed. It appears the student has acquired some unintended knowledge. A suitor (notice the box of candy behind his back) calling on a schoolmistress was juicy stuff indeed.

"First in His Class"

Rockwell was not terribly fond of school himself, which was perhaps why he depicted this young scholar as a nerd. To have the schoolmaster drone on and on about your intellectual achievements? I suspect Rockwell would have preferred having to write something on the chalkboard a bazillion times.

“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.

Making Faces by Frances Tipton Hunter

Oddly enough, these adorable little girls seem charmed by the goofy face the boy is making. Hint #1 guys: ladies adore a sense of humor. Artist Frances Tipton Hunter did eighteen Post covers, mostly of kids so darn cute you want to pinch their little cheeks. If you haven’t had your quota of cute for the week, look this artist up at curtispublishing.com.

Hockey Waits, Tying Skates by Alan Foster

Okay, now I get it: boys just act like they hate girls because their friends will razz them otherwise. At least that was the case in 1927. That’s the price this young man is paying for being the gentleman and helping milady tie her skates. Second hint, fellows: ignore the guys and just go for it. Many of artist Alan Foster’s nearly thirty covers look a great deal like Rockwell’s.

She’s My Girl! by J.C. Leyendecker

She’s my girl! Barely past the toddler stage, this young lady is already breaking hearts. This tip must be to fight for what you want, but couldn’t they both just walk her to school? This is from 1935 by J.C. Leyendecker.

Schoolboy Crush by Charles A. MacLellan

Next hint: don’t put your heart out there too soon. If you can’t read it, his chalkboard says “I Love You”. We dug clear back to 1914 for this cover by artist Charles A. MacLellan. Personally, Red, I think you’re too nice for a snooty girl like her, anyway. MacLellan is another artist I’ve often mistaken for Rockwell.

No Money for her Soda by Frances Tipton Hunter

Two tips here, gentlemen: DO take her out and show her a good time, like treating her to an ice cream soda. However, DO NOT forget your money. I never know whether to laugh or cry at the look on the boy’s face as he digs in his pocket. This was another cover by Frances Tipton Hunter that I can never resist.

Little Spooners by Norman Rockwell

Leave it to Norman Rockwell to give guys the best tip of all: do romance the lady. A fine example of that is this mutual admiration of the sunset. The poor little pup would rather go fishing, but a man has to have his priorities. This is a Rockwell classic from 1926.