Signpainter
Norman Rockwell
February 9, 1935
Click this image to order a print from Art.com.

“The story of my life is really the story of my pictures and how I made them,” Norman Rockwell frequently said. “In one way or another, everything I have seen or done has gone into my pictures.”

Some of his ideas gestated for years, but this February 9, 1935, Post cover (right) sprang to life quickly, inspired by a surprising turn of events that had occurred the previous November.

On that day, Norman’s second wife Mary and their friend Bud Cunningham (an out-of-work commercial artist and part-time handyman) had dropped by Norman’s studio in New Rochelle, New York. The artist was explaining that his assignment was to showcase the automobile’s influence on advertising.

But just as Norman was saying this, the door swung open and Howard O’Connor, Norman’s ex-brother-in-law, burst in. He had sad news: His sister Irene (Norman’s first wife) had died unexpectedly.

Only after delivering the news did Howard notice the others. He was embarrassed about barging in and apologized for interrupting. After an awkward silence, the ever-gracious Mary broke the ice: “What if the cover was a billboard advertisement with Bud as a sign painter, painting a portrait of a pretty woman’s face—a likeness and tribute to Irene?”

Norman kissed her, then picked up his pad and sketched her idea out on the spot. At the bottom of the sketch, Norman penciled in the word “kiss.”

“A Valentine kiss?” asked Howard.

“Yes, for my Mary,” replied the artist.

Visit Art.com for this and other classic Rockwell prints.

Valentine Kiss The Saturday Evening Post

Popular spy novelist and Post contributor John le Carré’s short story, “What Ritual is Being Observed Tonight?” (November 2, 1968) recently caught the attention of our online readers. But it wasn’t the text or its famous author that Post fans were raving about. Instead, it was what one reader dubbed “the gorgeous illustration” (right), which accompanied le Carré’s romantic tale.

Below is a small selection of work from the artist who stole le Carré’s limelight—Maxwell Coburn (Coby) Whitmore. Whitmore illustrated more than 100 short stories, including le Carré’s, and eight classic Post covers.

Prom Memento

Prom Memento
Coby Whitmore
October 29, 1955

Whitmore’s sultry illustrations were usually viewed by the editors as too risqué for the cover. Yet this fashionable teenage girl was judged wholesome enough for public display.

The use of light in this composition draws one’s attention to a keepsake from a special evening. Notice the attention to detail: the mundane items in the refrigerator, the dance card and gloves tossed onto a counter, and a clock reading close to 1:30 a.m. The white of the dress and refrigerator door get a punch of color from a fringed fuchsia shawl.

Whitmore knew that he wanted to be an artist before he graduated high school. After attending the Dayton Art Institute he moved to Chicago where he worked with Post illustrators Ben Stahl and Thornton Utz. In the early 1940s, Whitmore moved to New York, where he spent the bulk of his career. He worked with Jon Whitcomb at the well-respected Cooper studio. And throughout the 1940s and 1950s, according to artist blogger Leif Peng, hardly an issue of Ladies Home Journal and Good Housekeeping went by without story and/or advertising art by Whitmore and Whitcomb.

Fishing Season

Fishing Season
Coby Whitmore
June 3, 1950

While the wife in this illustration at left bemoans a husband who finds lures more alluring than she, Post editors were pleased to note that Whitmore’s own spouse was not a fishing widow. “The only time her artist husband ever went fishing, he dragged a vast pike into his boat, and the pike got sore and made terrifying passes at him. Whitmore slew the beast finally with his shoe, and turned to another hobby—extra fast automobiles.” At the time of this cover, the Whitmores owned a “super-sports model Jaguar” and were “getting their fun out of knowing they could zoom the hooded cyclone up 130 mph if they dared.”

1950 was also the year Whitmore helped design a unique and highly successful racecar, the Fitch-Whitmore Le Mans Special.

Money on Her Mind

Money on Her Mind
Coby Whitmore
November 26, 1960

“These were Coby Whitmore’s women and they were the ideal for 30 years,” said the Society of Illustrators as Whitmore was inducted into their Hall of Fame in 1978. “They were sunny blondes, curled up on couches, or creamy brunettes gazing over champagne glasses.”

They were also stunning redheads with Audrey Hepburn hairdos, like the illustration at left from the 1960 Post short story, “Money on Her Mind” by Willard Temple. The Hepburn-inspired coif was no accident. According to illustration expert Walt Reed in Great American Illustrators, Whitmore had to have “a thorough knowledge of fashion trends. Since the pictures oftentimes were not published until several months after being painted, styles chosen had to be advanced enough to avoid looking dated when they appeared.”

The Lady and the Landlord

The Lady and the Landlord
Coby Whitmore
June 1, 1957

“He stopped talking and put his arms around her. There was no resistance worth recording.” This provocative caption appeared below the Whitmore illustration at left. The caption, pulled from the Post story “The Lady and the Landlord,” is what Reed defines as “the clinch,” or the logical highlight in a romantic storyline. Variations on a romantic embrace would seem to be limited, Reed notes, but “Whitmore always came up with something new.” The industrious illustrator also created romantic scenes for McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, Redbook, Cosmopolitan, among others.

Lightning Storm

Lightning Storm
Coby Whitmore
March 22, 1958

“Racing cars, illustrating, and smart clothes on good-looking women,” Whitmore said these were his three primary interests. While Whitmore the racer was simply indulging in a hobby, Whitmore the artist was a fastidious professional who, writes Reed, was “so inventive over so long a time in doing variations on the theme of ‘boy meets girl.’” Though in this 1958 illustration, he depicted what happens after boy meets girl.

The Visitor

The Visitor
Coby Whitmore
July 3, 1965

More than just another provocative pose, this often-overlooked Whitmore illustration is an elegant study in pastels. The accompanying story, “The Visitor” by Audrey A. Boughton, was not a typical romance, but a story of a widow who receives a letter from a past love.

The beauty of Coby Whitmore went well beyond his skill with a paintbrush; according to the Society of Illustrators, he was “a dashing fellow” with a penchant for white suits and “a child’s delight in all things. A man of genuine humility, he seems truly not to know how good he is. Bob Levering [Whitmore’s co-worker and a fellow Post artist], characterized him as having a ‘great, ambling confused amiability. And underneath he’s sharp as a razor blade.’”

Classic Artist: Coby Whitmore The Saturday Evening Post

Edison Phonograph

Edison Phonograph advertisement
December 11, 1909

In 1877, a machine that could record and play sound back was a fantasy. Thomas Edison developed the phonograph and gave a detailed sketch to his mechanic to build. What happened next changed the world. “Edison immediately tested the machine by speaking the nursery rhyme into the mouthpiece, ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ To his amazement, the machine played his words back to him.” It had to be a magical moment.

The phonograph manufacturer was well aware that the purchase was a major expense. This 1909 ad suggested that “if every member of the family would take the money he or she expects to use to buy presents for the other members of the family, and put it together, there will be enough not only to buy an Edison Phonograph, but also a large supply of Records.” This was perhaps optimistic. Despite Edison’s desire to see “a phonograph in every home,” the machine cost $12.50 to $200.00 (equivalent to between $300 and $5,000 today).

Interwoven Socks

Interwoven Socks advertisement
J.C. Leyendecker
December 17, 1921

“Get him a box for Christmas” says this 1921 ad for Interwoven Socks, a major contract for J.C. Leyendecker. Considered by many the 20th century’s greatest illustrator (he was Norman Rockwell’s mentor), the prolific Leyendecker kept up an almost frenetic pace. He was The Saturday Evening Post’s most prolific cover artist, with 322 covers between 1899 and 1943. For decades, he was as well known for his stunning advertising art as for his covers for The Saturday Evening Post and several other publications. His handsome Arrow Collar man was masculine ideal for more than 30 years. And of course, he drew what would become a timeless St. Nick for Post covers and ad work alike.

Campbell’s Soup

Campbell’s Soup advertisement
Grace Drayton
December 24, 1932

The Campbell’s Soup Kids came about almost by accident. In 1904, Grace Drayton’s husband, an advertising man, had an appointment with the Joseph Campbell Company. He asked Grace to add a few characters to his advertising copy that might work for Campbell’s soup. A children’s illustrator, she drew her typical tots with rosy cheeks, dimpled knees and all. Campbell’s loved the little cuties and, at a time when women weren’t encouraged to have careers, a career was born.

The kids went from magazine ads beginning in 1905 to radio in the 1930s to television in the 1950s. Merchandising also began in the 1930s and even today, an unbelievable amount of merchandise, from dolls to mugs and so forth, is available bearing the chubby-cheeked images. This 1932 ad shows the cherubs in full Christmas spirit with the poem:

If we could only have our wish
To give the truest wealth,
On every doorstep we would leave
The gift of glowing health!

Candy

National Confectioners’ Association Candy advertisement
December 21, 1946

From 1946 comes this ad promising what we all need during the holiday season: quick energy. It further notes that “candy is something the body can really use as well as something the heart and mind can really enjoy,” which is somewhat more eloquent than the slogan at the bottom: “Candy’s Dandy … Keep It Handy.” The ad was placed by The National Confectioners’ Association, an organization founded in Chicago in 1884 and which, yes, is still around today.

Cream of Wheat

Cream of Wheat advertisement
Edward V. Brewer
December 6, 1922

American artist Edward V. Brewer (1883-1971) created distinctive advertising art for Cream of Wheat cereal. The iconic chef would appear in each ad, perhaps front and center and at times, as in this 1922 ad, more obscurely placed (in this case, in the newspaper on the floor). There are divergent views on the depiction of the chef: some see it as racist, a sort of Uncle Tom character; others see the chef as kind and trustworthy. This was a different era, after all, and we present it here as part of America’s cultural history. Because of their historical significance, and the quality of the artwork, the old Cream of Wheat ads are highly collectible today and originals often fetch between $7,000 and $10,000.

Rockwell Plymouth

Chrysler Plymouth advertisement
Norman Rockwell
December 22, 1951

We don’t need a picture of a gleaming new car, nor copy details about hydraulics, torque, or ease of handling. The simple text: “Oh, Boy! It’s Pop with a new PLYMOUTH!” and the faces of the family are enough. And it doesn’t hurt that the illustration is by Norman Rockwell. Yes, along with iconic covers for The Saturday Evening Post, America’s favorite artist sold everything from socks to mouthwash, as we’ve seen in “Norman Rockwell, Ad Man.” The Plymouth ad is from 1951.

Chrysler Plymouth

Edison Mazda Lamps advertisement
Worth Brehm
December 9, 1922

Click this image for a close-up and you’ll observe the family peeking from the doorway at the classic toys, such as Raggedy Ann and Andy. Post cover artist Worth Brehm created this illustration for Edison Mazda Lamps. Another artist who did quite a few ads for Edison was Norman Rockwell.

Classic Ads: Wish List for a 20th Century Christmas The Saturday Evening Post

Norman Rockwell at the Voting Booth

Massachusetts Mutual Life Insurance Company
advertisement
Norman Rockwell
November 5, 1960

“Here I am on November 8. As you can see, it’s not easy for me to make up my mind…” Norman Rockwell says in the caption of this 1960 Massachusetts Mutual Life Insurance Company advertisement (left).

The ad was one in a series of 81 pencil drawings Norman Rockwell sketched in the ’50s and ’60s for the insurance company. The advertisements depicted family life and ran in magazines such as Newsweek, Time, and The Saturday Evening Post. His artwork graced many ads, if not from A to Z, then at least from Acme Market to Western Union. The insurance series was Rockwell’s largest body of ad work.

Though we don’t know if he cast his vote for Richard Nixon or John F. Kennedy, we do know that he enjoyed working with both men in 1960, painting each of their portraits for The Saturday Evening Post covers. He found Nixon “as warm and friendly as the father of two pretty daughters could be.” And when he arrived to paint young Senator Kennedy, he found JFK still in his PJs. “The pajamas were rumpled, but he was wonderful,” Rockwell said. See “Post Presidential Covers” for both portraits.

Boy With Portraits of Taft and Bryan

Boy with Portraits of Taft and Bryan
J.C. Leyendecker
October 31, 1908

The third time was not the charm for William Jennings Bryan (portrait right). He lost the 1896 and 1900 presidential elections to William McKinley. And with the backing of popular incumbent Theodore Roosevelt behind William Howard Taft (portrait left) in 1908, Bryan lost again. J.C. Leyendecker, the Post‘s most prolific cover artist illustrated more than 320 Saturday Evening Post covers, from 1899 to 1943.

Leyendecker’s art ran the gamut, from lavish and elegant to humorous. Few covers were of a political nature, as Post editors preferred eye-catching portrayals of pretty girls or amusing scenes with children. However, Leyendecker depicted George Washington on five Post covers and did a memorable sketch of the corpulent William Howard Taft on the occasion of his 1909 inauguration (see “Post Presidential Covers”).

Votes for Women

Votes for Women
J.C. Leyendecker
December 30, 1911

For 37 consecutive years, J.C. Leyendecker welcomed the dawn of a brand new year with that famous New Year’s baby. Often, the cover was a reflection of the times: The 1910 New Year’s baby was flying a new-fangled biplane; the 1914 tot was riding a ship across the Panama canal. The precocious infants were aware of Prohibition and worried about the first global war and the Great Depression. The last New Year’s baby in 1943 wore a helmet and stabbed a swastika with a bayonet.

Our young lady (left) welcoming 1912 is ahead of her time; women didn’t get the vote until 1920. We’re reminded of Hillary Clinton’s quote from the 2008 primaries: “My mother was born before women could vote. But in this election my daughter got to vote for her mother for president.”

He Won’t Win!

He Won’t Win!
J.F. Kernan
Country Gentleman, October 25, 1924

J.F. Kernan illustrated nearly 30 covers for the Post and 28 for its sister publication, Country Gentleman, left. With arresting use of color, he depicted old sailors and frequently painted outdoor hunting and fishing scenes. It is indicative of his skill as an illustrator that he could move from a blue seascape or woodsy scene to a droll interior.

Four years before this issue of Country Gentleman hit newsstands, the 19th Amendment was passed, granting American women the right to vote. Women were still striving for political equality. In this cover, hubby is more than a bit skeptical of his wife’s choice. Clearly the artist was on her side: See Her Man Won! (below) which appeared on the very next cover (November 1, 1924).

Her Man Won!

Her Man Won!
J.F. Kernan
Country Gentleman, November 1, 1924

The Post’s sister publication, Country Gentleman occasionally ran two-part covers in the late 1910s and early ’20s. Part one of this scene appeared on the October 25, 1924, cover (see above). Left, the artist J.F. Kernan illustrated hubby having to eat crow after deriding his wife’s choice.

Another artist who had fun with the “wait until next week” concept was Norman Rockwell. Normally associated with The Saturday Evening Post, Norman Rockwell did 35 covers for Country Gentleman.

The Losing Candidate

The Losing Candidate
Norman Rockwell
November 8,1958

The model for this cover (left) was indeed politician Bernard T. Casey of Boston. For some years prior to this cover’s appearance, Casey, a telephone company executive, had served eight terms in the state legislature. He then quit running, but this natural-born leader with the winning smile never did quit helping other people campaign and win.

The cigar-chomping man to the right was Tom Carey, a fixture in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where Illustrator Norman Rockwell lived. Carey delivered the mail from the railroad station to the post office via horse and buggy for more than 50 years. During the summer, he also drove tourists around the countryside in his surrey, pointing out places of interest such as the Old Corner House, which served as the Norman Rockwell Museum for 24 years.

First Vote in the New States

First Vote in the New States
Constantin Alajálov
November 12, 1960

“This week, for the first time in history,” wrote Post editors in 1960, “the citizens of the Sandwich Islands and of ‘Seward’s Folly’ go to the polls to help elect a President of the United States.” It was a record-breaking ballot year, and Russian-born artist Constantin Alajálov couldn’t resist illustrating the contrast between the voters of the two recent additions to the United States, Hawaii and Alaska.

Concerning Alajálov’s subject, editors wrote, “And who knows, perhaps one of them, an orchid-picker or a seal skinner, is casting the vote that carries the state that swings the election. … This amalgam of people living together in harmony is bright evidence of the democratic way of life they’re voting to preserve.”

Classic Art: Voting in America The Saturday Evening Post

Commuter Train The Saturday Evening Post

Well, we’re almost one-third of the way toward the centennial of Rockwell’s death and his reputation is doing quite well. In fact, there has been a recent rise in interest in this great Post cover artist. Vanity Fair recently published a long article about his work, which was inspired by the recent publication of a new book on his work. This May, the Smithsonian Institute will open a major exhibit of Rockwell paintings from the collections of film directors Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. The continuing interest in Rockwell suggests that he may not be quite forgotten by 2078.

Deserving a Second Look

Champ or Be a man
Norman Rockwell
April 29, 1922

Art professors tell us that, to truly enjoy modern art, and that we need to study the painting and learn about the life and times of the artist. While Rockwell’s paintings can be enjoyed without any prior study, viewers who study one of his works often find new details and techniques to admire.

Take, for example, Imperfect Fit, his cover for the December 15, 1945 issue. We see a young man, fresh from war, trying on the boyhood clothes he left behind. Not only has he outgrown his clothing but his head is now uncomfortably close to the sloped ceiling of his attic bedroom.

With an impeccable sense of staging, Rockwell uses props that contrast the boy with the man: the serviceman’s duffle bag in front of the fishing rod and baseball bat; the picture of Mom on the dresser and the pinup on the wall. We see the pilot’s wings on the veteran’s uniform jacket alongside the abandoned model airplane and B-17 poster the boy left behind. The painting would have resonated with the post-war readers who, like the boy, were seeing how they had outgrown their pre-war world.

Painting from Life

Rockwell’s autobiography, which was published in the 1960 Post, also gives insight into his works. Among other things, the reader gets a sense that the sentiments in his work were heart-felt. For example, there is his characteristic modesty:

“When I was ten years old, a skinny kid with a long neck and narrow shoulders, I wanted to be a weight lifter. So I began a program of exercises to strengthen myself. Every morning I would do pushups, deep knee bends, jumping jacks and the like before my bedroom mirror. After a month or so, unable to detect any improvement, I gave up. Instead of becoming a weight lifter, I decided to fall back on what seemed to be my only talent—drawing…

His childhood days were very much what you would expect for a middle-class kid at the turn of the century.

“We dug holes to China in vacant lots and, kneeling down, one ear pressed to the bottom of the hole, listened intently. ‘D’ya hear anything?’ ‘Yeah, yeah, I hear something. Quiet!’ (Breathless silence) ‘Whatta ya hear?’ ‘Voices. They’re talking Chinese; I can’t understand them.’

“We boasted about our families. I was thought to be tops in culture because my family had two Caruso records. We climbed telegraph poles, played prisoners’ base, sat on the stoops of our houses in the evening watching the lamplighter climb his ladder and light the gas lamps. I guess we led the average life of city kids around the turn of the century.”

Poignant Disenchantment

“Two memories of the city overshadow all else, unfairly perhaps. One is of the night President McKinley was shot. I remember the streets were dark except for the yellow pools of light beneath the gas lamps. The newsboys were shouting, ‘Extra! Extra! Extra! McKinley assassinated! Extra! Extra!’ People were gathering under the gas lamps, reading the news and brushing off their faces the moths which swarmed about the light. There was a kind of horror in the streets. Because I did not understand the meaning of the word ‘assassinate,’ I thought McKinley had been mortally wounded in some cruel, torturing way. I was only seven at the time. The next day we went to church, where they played ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee,’ McKinley’s favorite hymn. My father and mother cried.

“The other memory is of a vacant lot in the cold, yellow light of late afternoon, and a drunken woman in filthy rags beating a man over the head with an umbrella until he fell, then standing over him, kicking and striking him again and again. We kids watched from the edge of the lot until a policeman ran up and grabbed the woman. The man got up slowly and, seeing the policeman struggling with the woman, attacked him, swaying drunkenly and swearing. I forget how it ended. But the memory of that night and of that drunken woman became my image of the city.

Hey Fellers Come On In!
Norman Rockwell
June 19, 1920

“Against this image of the city—distorted as it is, I have never been able to rid myself of it entirely—I set the country. Until I was nine or ten years old, my family spent every summer in the country at various farms which took in boarders. The grownups played croquet, or sat in high slat-backed rockers on the front porch. We kids were left to do just about anything we wanted… Those summers, as I look back on them now, more than fifty years later, have become a collection of random impressions outside of time, not connected with a specific place or event, and all together forming an image of sheer bliss. I remember throwing off my shoes and socks to wiggle my bare toes in the cool green grass on our first day in the country, then running off gingerly over gravel road and hay stubble for a swim in the river. I remember the hayrides, all the boarders singing as the horses trotted along the dark country lanes; the excitement of eating lunch with the threshing crew at long board tables; hunting bullfrogs with a scrap of red silk tied to the end of a pole; the turtles and frogs we carried back to the city in the fall, snuffling and crying on the train because summer was over.”

Perspective in Popular Art

Although Rockwell was continually plagued with a lack of confidence, he never lost sight of the difference between himself and “artists.”

“When the art critics call me ‘cornball’ and my work ‘kitsch,’ which I’m told is a derogatory term for popular art, I begin to worry. But I always pick up my brushes and go back to work. For better or for worse, I’ll never be a fine arts painter or a modern artist. I’m an illustrator, which is very different…

“Ten or fifteen years ago a Bohemian art student—beard, long hair, sandals—kept hanging around a studio I had rented in Provincetown, Massachusetts. One day he interrupted my work on a painting of Johnny Appleseed—an old man with an iron kettle on his head and a burlap sack for a coat, striding across a hilltop, flinging out handfuls of seed.

“‘Whatta ya do it that way for?’ the art student asked.

“‘What do you mean?’

“‘Whyn’t ya do it with more feeling?’ he said. ‘Like this.’ He pulled some colored chalk out of his pocket and outlined a tall rectangle on a big piece of paper. ‘Now,’ he said, filling in with light-brown chalk a shape like a hawk’s beak, ‘that’s old Johnny’s body. It was browned by the wind and sun. OK?’

“I nodded, startled.

“‘OK,’ he said, and above the hawk’s beak, which projected from the lower-right corner, he divided the rectangle into a red area and a white area, each roughly triangular. ‘He was kind of a religious fanatic,’ he said, ‘right?’ I nodded dumbly. ‘So the white’s his spirit,’ he said, ‘and the red’s the physical part of him and they’re contending, the physical and the spiritual.’ He rubbed blue chalk over the area below the hawk’s beak— ‘That’s nature.’—made the base of the rectangle dark brown—’That’s earth.’— and drew a hand casting a seed, the arm coming out of the hawk’s beak.

“‘But,’ I said when he’d finished, ‘nobody knows it’s Johnny Appleseed. Only you know it’s Johnny Appleseed. Nobody else can tell who it is.’

“‘So? What difference does it make about anybody else? I know it’s old Johnny. I’m painting it for myself. Who cares about the unwashed masses?’

“‘Besides,’ I said, ‘your picture won’t fit into the book it’s supposed to appear in. The proportions are wrong. You’ve got it too tall.’

“‘So make the book tall,’ he said.

“All of which demonstrates, I think, that a modern artist or fine-arts painter doesn’t go at a picture the same way an illustrator does. I believe strongly that a painting should communicate something to large numbers of people. So, according to some critics, my work is old-fashioned, trite, banal. This criticism worries me now and then, especially when a picture I’m trying to finish is going badly, but I’ve learned that I can’t change. I’m not a modern artist and never will be. I don’t see things the way modernists do, even though I enjoy studying their work. I’ve been an illustrator since I was sixteen years old. I’m not particularly satisfied with my work—at least I’m always trying to improve it—but I believe in it.”

Norman Rockwell and American Idealist Art The Saturday Evening Post

Norman Rockwell must have been captivated by the looks of James K. Van Brunt the day he showed up in Rockwell’s studio, pronouncing himself as a bold veteran of Fredericksburg and brave fighter of Indians forces. Standing 5 feet, 2 inches tall with a craggy face, knobby nose, and distinctive mustache, Van Brunt became one of Rockwell’s favorite models—posing for numerous covers. So many, in fact, that Post editors began to complain.

Rockwell eventually told Van Brunt he would no longer be able to use him as a model unless he shaved his mustache. He refused, then returned a couple weeks later and said he would do it for $10, which Rockwell paid. “I guess the notoriety he’d gained from posing for me had overcome his pride in his mustache,” said Rockwell. The result can be seen in The Old Sign Painter from February 6, 1926.

Do you recognize Van Brunt in the following covers?

I Know That Face! The Saturday Evening Post

People fought the bitter cold in January; went to school and baseball games; and went swimming in July. Well, the bathing suits were a little different …

Teacher catching student
Worth Brehm
March 19, 1910

Life in 1910

Northerners can relate to an artist named Robert Robinson, who did the most delightful paintings of old gentlemen (some say old geezers, but we prefer to be nice). This gent is peering through fogged-up specs at a temperature that seems to be hovering around 14 degrees. We’re not sure where his is. Minnesota, Michigan, New York? But we do know the cover is from January 8, 1910.

It’s getting a bit chilly in the classroom, too. The schoolmaster is about to descend on an unwitting student. Unlike the 2010 teacher, we suspect this one was unconcerned with a “politically correct” punishment. In other words, the boy probably got walloped.

Baseball Player
Robert Robinson
October 1, 1910

Yes, folks, there was baseball in 1910! And it made the cover of The Saturday Evening Post with an engaging cover (also by artist Robinson) of a catcher wondering “where’d it go?!” Check out the nifty catcher’s mitt.

Man mowing lawn
J.C. Leyendecker
August 6, 1910

In summer, Americans not only played baseball, they mowed lawns, too. (Sound familiar?) The gent in the August cover from famous artist J.C. Leyendecker is working away with a push mower, unaware of how “green” his method of grass control is. Who knew lawn care 1910 style would be fashionable again 100 years later? Although we suspect few of us are mowing our lawns in a vest and tie these days.

Girl swimming calling to friends
Harrison Fisher
July 16, 1910

And we don’t mean to be scandalous, but we cannot leave without warming you up with illustrations of ladies’ swimwear—1910 style, of course. The girl on the July cover is calling out to friends while swimming. You can tell the sleeves and proper head covering of her swimming costume is not holding her back.

Woman in bathing costume
Henry Hutt
August 13, 1910

A full view of swimming attire follows the next month with a Henry Hutt painting. As you can see, fashions may come and go, but our favorite American pastimes remain in tact.

Classic Covers: 100 Years Ago The Saturday Evening Post

This is your house, right? Not the top panel in the 1958 cover, with the kids running to open their gifts (that was yesterday). Not the middle panel, where everyone is enjoying the process (ditto). Admit it, your house looks like the bottom panel with gifts, wrapping paper, and ribbons strewn everywhere. The sound of reindeer hooves on the rooftop is a distant memory. This cover by artist Ben Prins sums it up: It’s all over but the clean-up.

“You’re not going anywhere young man, until you thank Grandma for the ice skates,” Mom seems to be saying in the 1960 cover by artist George Hughes. “Geeze, the pond might melt before I finish these letters,” the boy thinks. These days, you might hear: “You’re not playing any video games until you e-mail Grandma and thank her for the Wii games.” Maybe a sweet Tweet will do.

It ain’t over till it’s over. Not yet able to breathe a sigh of relief is the harried clerk in the exchange department that appeared on our January 11, 1941 cover. This young lady is due for a day off.

Scrooge in the form of the IRS? Finding a notice from the Treasury Department among the Christmas cards is just not right. The editors didn’t want to be accused of creating “an image of the abdominal postman,” but hey, he did leave a special delivery package in the snow. Not wanting to reinforce that image ourselves, we give you J.C. Leyendecker’s postman of 1940. The guy has worked hard indeed, and is enjoying a pipe and hot bath for his tired feet. These days, we’ll just skip the pipe, and the footbath may plug in, but we say the hardworking postmen (and women) deserve any rest they can get.

Classic Covers: The “Post”-Holiday The Saturday Evening Post

One hundred years ago this very month, scurrying home with his purchases is the gentleman in J.C. Leyendecker’s December 4, 1909 cover. How he manages to carry even a rocking horse at such a rapid clip is one of the mysteries of the season.

Another rocking horse shows up on artist James R. Bingham’s inviting 1945 cover. It is a rather clumsily wrapped gift—but how does one wrap a horse? As the editors noted, “Santa himself could not make a rocking horse look like anything else.”

A rural post office on artist Stevan Dohanos’ December 1947 cover is about to get some business from the man bearing parcels while the dog and the cow wait in the truck. (We’re told the cow was one of the most cooperative models the artist had in a long time.)

Waiting for a bus laden with purchases is a hard way to get gifts where they need to go! Dohanos’ 1952 cover shows a crowd waiting, some rather impatiently, for that ride. Too bad we can’t see the next scene, where the man jiggles the sled through the bus door, and the older lady surprises the bus driver by hauling a tree aboard. And … is that a goose?

Our most unusual Christmas delivery must be on Mead Schaeffer’s December 1946 cover. Rowing the gift-laden boat to the lighthouse in the chill winter must be a challenge. The picturesque lighthouse existed in real life (and still does) in the Hudson River between Athens and Hudson. A man named Edward Bremmer tended the light and is shown rowing the boat. The editors suggested he might be startled when he gets to the lighthouse. In depicting the Bremmer family, the artist decided to add three additional children. Surprise!

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Classic Covers: Special Delivery! The Saturday Evening Post

The kid is having a meltdown; Dad already has more than he can handle, but Mom has a list and is on a mission! The 1936 cover by artist J.C. Leyendecker has a message: If you see a shopper this determined, get out of the way!

Children and husbands are not the only sufferers. Take the “Santa’s Helper” on Norman Rockwell’s 1947 cover. The poor woman in the toy department is footsore and exhausted. Rockwell did the cover in Chicago in the summer heat. Deciding the scene needed more dolls, he set about shopping, somewhat sheepishly, until he had “forty-eight dollars’ worth”. In 1947 we’re sure this amounted to a mountain of dolls. According to the editors, Rockwell thought “he probably has more dollies than any other kid of fifty-three.”

Crammed full of shoppers and travelers is the December 1944 cover of a Chicago train station also by Rockwell. Santa ringing a bell, servicemen kissing sweethearts – even some poor schmuck squeezing through the crowd with a Christmas tree – ‘tis the season for hectic!

The Lost Child Department (or lost parent department) is shown to us in artist Thornton Utz’s 1958 cover. A dizzying amount of hurly-burly is happening in what the editors dubbed “the Madding Throng Department Store”. A lady in the foreground is hitting hubby up for additional money and a lady in the background is considering some rather wild boxers for her own beloved. Alas, it is the poor lost little urchin that worries us! The editors assure us, however, the parents will show up, and “their distress will lose itself in the reunion—their sweetest Christmas present of the year.”

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Classic Covers: Post-Thanksgiving The Saturday Evening Post

Preparing for Thanksgiving dinner was a Post cover artist’s dream, and we’re thankful for our impressive collection.

One of the most beloved cooking covers appeared on the November 1908 issue by J.C. Leyendecker. Grandmother is busy making the pie and the little boy is anxious to do the taste test.

Having no problem with the taste-testing part is the young man from a November 1910 cover, tucking into the turkey with gusto. Every cook loves a kid with a healthy appetite.

But what about the poor lady in the 1947 cover by artist Constantin Alajalov? While her guests wait at the table, the poor lady discovers that her bird is cooked … well, overcooked … well, burnt! Alas, we aren’t all chefs.

Know a soldier fond of KP? Such a man existed on a rarely seen Norman Rockwell cover in November of 1945. If I’m home, and the potatoes are for Mom, then by gosh, I’ll gladly peel the lot. The model soldier was Dick Hagelberg, a bombardier who flew 65 missions over Germany, and yes, that was his real mother. We would like to dedicate this beautiful cover to all soldiers who would dearly love to be pulling KP for Mom this Thanksgiving.

Classic Covers: Thanksgiving Dinner The Saturday Evening Post

Sticking out His Tongue
Richard Sargent
February 7, 1959

Artist Richard Sargent also shows us that principals, too, have their crosses to bear. In the February 1959 two-part cover, we see little Bobby greeting the principal happily in a “nice to see you, sir!” gesture. Gee, what a nice kid. But … the gesture changes in panel two, after the little stinker got in trouble in class. It looks as if he was sent to the Library next door to get a book on how to behave (Manners Are Fun, the title reads) and decides to let baldy know what he really thinks. Let’s hope that door doesn’t open and Mr. Principal sees that tongue sticking out. He’ll have more than a boring book to worry about.

School Boys Fighting—J.C. Leyendecker—April 1, 1911

At least little Bobby wasn’t sent to the principal’s office for fighting, as in the Frances Tipton Hunter cover from September 1936. Two boys stand disheveled outside the principal’s office: They have some explaining to do, starting with the black eye. Certainly not the first time this has happened. Artist J.C. Leyendecker showed us two schoolboys going at each other fast and furious way back in 1911. What is it about boys and fighting? Wait a minute. There is that Rockwell cover from May 1953 with the girl in pigtails boasting quite a shiner while sitting outside the principal’s office.

Rowdy Bus Ride—Amos Sewell—September 9, 1950

Let’s not forget the hardworking bus drivers. “At what point did I lose control?” The driver is musing in the September 1950 cover. Climbing over seats, pulling hair, and just being overall rowdy, this is quite a trip. And the school year is only beginning. Will the poor driver make it to Thanksgiving vacation?

Morning Coffee Break—Amos Sewell—September 12, 1959

Showing the other side of the coin is the September 12, 1959, cover by the same artist. After a summer of noise and bustling activity interspersed with whining complaints of “I’m bored,” Mom finally gets the kids off to school. And it is a sweet moment indeed as she kicks off her shoes, lies back, and enjoys a cup of coffee, with nary a thought for the poor bus driver. Hey, she’s done her time.

The Shiner—Norman Rockwell—May 23, 1953

But we’re being unfair here. Not all students are misbehaving little monsters, right? There’s the October 16, 1920, cover … never mind, that boy has a slingshot. OK, there’s artist Alan Foster’s September 1930 cover … never mind, that boy is writing “I was tardy” a hundred times on the blackboard. We’ve got it! Norman Rockwell’s June 26, 1926, cover of the schoolmaster extolling the virtues of the young scholar who seems to be grabbing “first in class” honors. May you shine as brightly this school year.

Gallery

Classic Covers: School Daze The Saturday Evening Post

George Hughes (1907-1990) began his career with the Post illustrating Guy Gilpatric’s Glencannon stories and other seafaring fiction. A resident of Arlington, Vermont, he was a neighbor of such noted Post cover artists as Norman Rockwell, John Atherton, and Mead Schaeffer. Like Rockwell, Hughes believed in realist painting and insisted on working from actual settings. He spent an entire day learning how to properly place clothespins for his first Post cover of April 17, 1948, in which a mother hangs clothes as her son parades home, showing more dirt than the law should allow.

Hughes’ favorite theme was unforgettable family situations with which Post readers could readily identify. Hughes, who had five children, could easily relate to scenes such as Coming Up Roses, where another too-busy Mom notices her toddler pulling up roses. A Post favorite shows a mom taking a nice cold glass of lemonade to the hardworking boy mowing the lawn. Is this the quintessential 1950s cover or what? Shades of June Cleaver.

The Fork in the Road cover (July 7, 1956) displays another familiar Hughes theme: a humorous slant on relationships. Even on a lovely summer drive, man and wife disagree on which way to go. Adults seeking peace and quiet also appear in Hughes’ work, such as No Chance to be Alone, which portrays a couple enjoying a peaceful space at the beach—until a large, boisterous family discovers the same spot. In Sunday Visitors, Hughes captures a couple going back into the house to enjoy the Sunday paper after one group of after-church visitors leave … and another family comes up the walk. Sigh.

But what suggests summer better than the sight greeting the small bird watchers on the March 24, 1962 cover? No, not the bright red bird the guide is delighted to see, but over there, through the trees, on the other side of the water. Can it be? It is! The season’s first ice cream truck!

Classic Covers: George Hughes, Signs of Summer The Saturday Evening Post

Spring is here, and our northern areas are encountering the almost-forgotten sights and sounds of this gently blustering season. There are whitecapped millponds, stretching and tossing after their icy hibernations; pussy willows sunning themselves like wise kittens; and increasingly frequent flashes of bright birds back home after their vacation down South.

There’s the first faintly perceptible yellowing of bare-limbed maples beginning to get dressed in their cool summer green; snow banks of spiraea blossoms making believe that winter has come back; lines of Monday-morning wash whipping like bright flags under the high-riding sun.

There’s the sound of peepers in springtime pools, reminding us that even April can get a little frog in her throat in such changeable weather; the drip of maple sap from a boy-broken tree branch and the back-to-work buzzing of bees; the chirping of newly hatched chicks; the eager rush and gurgle of city gutters and country trout streams; the satisfying crack of the first clean-hit ball and the mud sucking sound of boys’ shoes, unfettered by galoshes, as they play catch in a soggy field.

There’s a new ring to Sunday church bells, unhurried but clear over the balmy air, telling us that perhaps it is not yet irrevocably later than we think, that there is always a new beginning, another chance for our sad old world, one more hope for us all.

If you would like to order a fine art print of any classic Post cover, please visit http://curtispublishing.com/pdf/order_prints.pdf or call Janie Mahoney at 317-633-2070 for more information.

"Apple Blossoms" by Howard Scott; 1944

"Spring Storm Moving In," by John Falter; 1952

"Flying Kites," by John Falter; 1950

"Windy City," by John Falter; 1946

"Hardware Store at Springtime," by Stevan Dohanos; 1946

"Chicks in Incubator," by Stevan Dohanos; 1949

"Recess at Pine Creek," by John Clymer; 1960

"Harbinger of Spring," by John Clymer; 1955

"Oregon Baseball," by John Clymer; 1951

Artists Brush with Spring The Saturday Evening Post