Maj. Jimmy Stewart talking with the crew of a B-24 named "Betty." Photo courtesy Library of Congress

No movie is more closely associated with the Christmas season than It’s a Wonderful Life. For many people, it is the essential holiday movie, and the role they most closely associate with Jimmy Stewart.

In many ways, Stewart was very much like the character of George Bailey—the congenial, folksy manager of the Bailey Building and Loan Association. But there was far more depth to the actor than his movie roles suggested, as Post readers learned in December 1945. “Jimmy Stewart’s Finest Performance,” written by Colonel Beirne Lay Jr., showed a side of the actor that had been largely kept out of the press: Colonel James Stewart of the 445th Bomber Group.

Despite being overage and underweight, Stewart was able to enlist in the U.S. Army Air Corps in 1941 on the strength of his flying experience. He’d received his pilot’s license in 1935, and already had 400 hours of flying time by the beginning of the war.

The armed forces were glad to sign up celebrities. Young men were encouraged to enlist when they saw famous musicians and movie stars in uniform. But the military was careful to keep the big names away from the shooting. A celebrity killed in action might discourage potential recruits. So movies stars, like Robert Taylor, Henry Fonda, and Mickey Rooney, served in uniform but saw little, if any, combat.

Clark Gable was one of the few exceptions. After enlisting in the Air Force, and completing the training, he served as a gunner on missions over Germany in a B-17.

The odds were against Stewart ever seeing combat. He was a particularly valuable property, having just won the Oscar for Best Actor after his performance in The Philadelphia Story. But Stewart was determined to fly in combat, and continued his training throughout 1942. It was only when the rest of his training unit shipped to Europe and he remained as a trainer-pilot in Boise, Idaho, that he realized the truth.

The Big Moment: As operations officer at a B-24 Liberator base in England, the then Major Stewart distributes the flight forms to heavy-bomber pilots for the all-important D-Day mission. Photo courtesy The Saturday Evening Post.

Fortunately, he was able to get his commander to intercede and get him a commission with a bomber group flying B-24s. In October 1943, his unit arrived at its airfield in Norfolk, England. Over the next year, he flew 20 missions into Germany, dodging intense anti-aircraft fire and Luftwaffe fighter planes in the most intense, and costly, air combat ever seen.

According to several accounts, Stewart wasn’t just a good pilot. He was exceptional. The Air Corps, recognizing his flying skill and ability to command, gave him the lead in several of the 1,500-plane raids into Germany. He helped plan the bombing missions and often conducted the briefings for pilots, where he would use his skills as a performer to liven up the sessions and keep the aviators’ attention. Walter Matthau, then a sergeant with the squadron, would sit through Stewart’s briefing because they were so entertaining.

He was also careful and meticulous. He would sit through briefings twice to make sure he had heard all the details.

Just back from Germany, Stewart reports on the mission. Photo courtesy The Saturday Evening Post.

But he wasn’t immune to the fears. Colonel Low knew how the pressure mounted on the pilot-actor with each mission. Stewart began suffering from recurring nightmares, and his digestion was so upset he often lived on just ice cream and peanut butter.

He admitted to Low that, in February 1944, he was convinced he would die in the next day’s bombing run. But he took off anyway, fought his way deep into Germany and returned, bringing himself and his crew unharmed back to the base.

He returned to Hollywood in the spring of 1945. The first acting job he accepted was the role of George Bailey—a nice, idealistic guy who selflessly puts his life on hold while he takes care of others.

You might gain a new appreciation for Stewart’s acting talent the next time you watch It’s a Wonderful Life and remember, one year earlier, he was flying through fierce anti-aircraft fire and seeing his comrades shot out of the sky. Yet he still seems the boyish character he’d always played. You can’t even tell how his hair had been tinted to cover all the gray he’d picked up since The Philadelphia Story.

Jimmy Stewart’s Finest Performance The Saturday Evening Post

"Hardly any of them have trouble reading that chart.&quot

January 17, 1942

"They say he sounds like the siren."

February 28, 1942

"How would you like to be in that guy’s shoes? Facin' DiMaggio, with the bases loaded!"

July 11, 1942

"It's no use, Mrs. Tuttle, I just don’t have any butter."

March 20, 1943

"Well, the way I figure it censor censor censor censor and censor censor censor censor!"

September 18, 1943

"Oh, come now. With all that's happening these days you don't think you could frighten me?"

March 7, 1943

Click here for another World War II cartoon gallery.

Cartoons: World War II The Saturday Evening Post

Mary Soames is the youngest and only surviving child of Winston and Clementine Churchill. Mary was their “consolation baby” following the death of their daughter, Marigold. She was born in 1922 and brought up at the family home known as Chartwell in Kent. Her bond with her father, as shown in this book, was immediate, extremely warm, and lasted to the end of the great man’s life. Her relationship with her mother didn’t really bloom until later, but Mary always had the highest regard and admiration for her.

Her nurse, Nana, helped raise her and influenced the person she grew to be. They remained close throughout her life. Her mother traveled often and her father, “WSC” as Mary liked to refer to him, was very much a hands-on, involved parent, even in Mary’s very early years. This is surprising when you consider the demands of his work and his importance in global politics.

Because Mary’s siblings were much older than she, Mary grew up in the company of adults; she was directly involved in her parents’ associations. Their friends included many powerful people, famous artists and entertainers from all over the globe. Chaplain, De Gaulle, T.E. Lawrence/Shaw, the Roosevelts, among many others, were known to Mary and she to them.

Following school, in 1941, she joined the Army Transport Service with a desire to make a difference and to do her part for the war. She later trained and served in anti-aircraft batteries in England and Europe. She traveled extensively with her father on his wartime journeys.

It seems clear that the bulk of this book came directly from Mary’s diaries, which she started in childhood, as well as an excellent recollection of her life’s many memorable moments. She is thorough in her writing, often including menus and guest lists in the pages of the events described.

She made many friends her own age along the way and even broke some hearts. This book comes to a rather sudden end when, at the age of 25, Mary meets and marries Christopher Soames. This leads me to wonder if there will be a second book, telling the rest of the story of Mary’s remarkable life.

A Daughter’s Tale: The Memoir of Winston Churchill’s Youngest Child is available at Amazon.

Book Review: A Daughter’s Tale The Saturday Evening Post

U.S. military photo of atomic bomb detonation at Bikini Atoll.

The best-selling book No Place to Hide was David Bradley’s eyewitness account of the weapons tests at Bikini Atoll. Richard Gerstell was also part of that military testing crew. But unlike Bradley, he wrote this article to reassure Americans in 1950 that if under nuclear attack ”there most definitely is some place to hide.”

U.S. military photo of psychoneurotic goats.

This article was recently mentioned in Alex Boese’s new novel Electrified Sheep, a collection of curious science experiments. In the book, Boese references Gerstell’s inclusion of the psychoneurotic goats filmed on one of the naval vessels during the weapons testing at Bikini.

From our Archives: How You Can Survive an A-Bomb Blast The Saturday Evening Post

“War Stories”

"War Stories"
from October 13, 1945

A number of Rockwell Post covers have become iconic — classics we all recognize right away. Some of the wartime covers we show you here may be some of the illustrator’s finest work, yet they are seldom seen. We view them this Memorial Day weekend to honor those who have served and those who serve today.

“War Stories”

"War Stories"
from October 13, 1945

A war hero, holding a Japanese flag, has tales of war to tell, and clearly the memories are not light, the retelling not boastful, and the life-altering experiences he relates are riveting. The news article on the wall shows that the soldier is a local hero. The model was not a former garage employee, but was indeed a decorated Marine named Duane Parks. Rockwell found him in Dorset, Vermont. The other models were, as usual, Arlington, Vermont neighbors of the artist. The man with the pipe leaning in to listen was the owner of the garage, Bob Benedict. The man posing as the policeman was Arlington town clerk and newspaper editor. The young boys Rockwell found even closer to home: the boy sitting next to the Marine was his youngest son, Peter, and the blond boy to the right was his oldest son, Jerry. They, along with brother Tommy, appeared on many a Rockwell canvas.

“The Armchair General”

"The Armchair General"
from April 29, 1944

Tracing each advance and retreat is more than an interesting pastime with this gentleman. The service flag with three stars indicates he has that number of sons serving. May the stars remain forever blue, for a gold star represents a serviceman who will not return home. With his customarily remarkable eye for detail, Rockwell shows a tiny photo of each boy by the flag, photos of generals MacArthur and Eisenhower, a wall map, and an old-fashioned radio.

“The Clubhouse Examination”

"The Clubhouse Examination"
from June 16, 1917

Going back to 1917, Rockwell shows us a different kind of “recruitment center.” Even on tiptoe, our would-be soldier doesn’t measure up to the “nesissary hite.” The “recrooter,” decked out in a combination scout/soldier attire, was one of Rockwell’s favorite early models, Billy Paine. Alas, boys sometimes do foolish things in real life and Paine died at age thirteen doing a stunt from a second-story window. He was in fifteen Rockwell Post covers.

“Fisk WWI Soldier – Youth’s Companion” by creator

"Fisk WWI Soldier - Youth's Companion"
from July 26, 1917

We found a couple of boxes of a publication called The Youth’s Companion in the archives recently. This was a children’s magazine published in Boston from 1827-1929. By happy accident, we noticed this Rockwell ad for something called “Fisk Boys Club” from a 1917 issue. Rockwell numbered Fisk Tires among his many advertising clients. What was the Fisk Boy’s Club? It was a way for youngsters to participate in the war effort:

They are not old enough to go to the front–but they make themselves useful and their labors in bicycle patrols, delivering messages, Red Cross assistants and so on are excellent training in discipline and character building that develops manly and honorable young men.

“Home at Last”

"Home at Last"
from September 15, 1945

Back to post-WWII for a restful snooze in a hammock on a quiet, sun-dappled afternoon — who could wish for more for our loved ones returning home?

Rockwell was a borrower for this painting. He borrowed the sailor, soon to return to the Navy, from Williams College. The sailor’s uniform was borrowed from a shipmate, as he didn’t have the decorations on his own. The house was borrowed from a neighbor; the hammock from another neighbor. Rockwell borrowed the pooch from his son, Tommy. The shoes were not borrowed however — they belonged to the artist.

Rockwell: The War Years The Saturday Evening Post

"The Line at the Ration Board,"Sketch by Norman Rockwell.

Why are these people waiting in line? An artist named Norman Rockwell sketched these folks as they waited to appeal to a group of volunteers known as a ration board.

Everything from meat to gasoline was in short supply during World War II. And heaven help you if you were in dire need of a pair of nylons! The government introduced rationing, which meant you could only buy what your ration coupons allowed, no matter how much money you had. What you thought was an urgent need (for gasoline, as an example) and what the government thought was necessary were often at odds. And who regulated everyone’s fair share? Your local ration board, of course, like the one Rockwell visited (and painted) in 1944.

"The Ration Board"

 

“Spring was on the land, and the benignant Vermont sun, having penetrated every other nook and cranny in the town of Manchester, presently made its way into a certain quiet room where six men and one woman sat around a long, plain table. Then, in the following order, came: The song of birds, the fragrance of flowers, and—-Norman Rockwell.

“The last of these three, it developed, wanted something. The ration board, having never had a visitor who didn’t, evinced no surprise. In Rockwell’s case, however, the desideratum was none of the things the rest of us try to wheedle out of our ration boards.

“’What I would like,’ said America’s favorite artist, ‘is the privilege of painting pictures of all you board members.’” – From The Saturday Evening Post, July 15, 1944

 

"Rockwell observing the Ration Board"

The board agreed to the painting as long as the artist made them look good.

“If I do,” he bargained, “will you give me a B card?” (A sticker deeming your car essential to the war effort and thereby entitled to a whopping eight gallons of gasoline a week.)

“No, but if you don’t, they said, “we’ll take away you’re A card.” (Allowing you four gallons of fuel.)

As it happened, the artist painted himself into the scene. At left you see a man standing before the board to plead his case, and sitting, observing, is the artist.

"Petitioning the Board,"Sketch by Norman Rockwell.

How did citizens take to having to appeal to a local board for the right to purchase necessities? “We are about as popular as tax collectors,” wrote Joe M. Dawson in 1943. Dawson served on a Manhattan ration board and described one rather hefty lady who, “despite her coquettish hat and giddy perfume, was quite angry. She had made four trips to the ration board demanding extra gasoline, and each time we decided she was not entitled to it. “I’m an American citizen,” she exploded, waving a scarlet-tipped finger under my nose,” Dawson wrote in “Life on A Ration Board” in The Saturday Evening Post, “You can’t do this to me. I’ve written to that man Henderson; I’ve written to the President. If you don’t give me my gasoline, I’ll write to Uncle Sam!”

"Waiting their turn to be heard,"Sketch by Norman Rockwell.

“Most people understand it isn’t our fault, and that we give our time and energy without pay, but it is human nature to personalize the irritations and troubles; so we get cussed out anyway,” Dawson wrote in the 1943 Post story. But the good people of the boards felt it was a way to serve the war efforts. “Despite the headaches, it has paid me ample dividends, not only in the satisfaction of doing a necessary job but also in humor, and a fascinating insight into my fellow man which I would not have got any other way. Everybody likes to watch and know about his neighbors, and a job on the board is a front-row seat.”

"We need more! Original sketch by Norman Rockwell.

These words reflect what Norman Rockwell was doing at a Vermont ration board a few months later. He knew he was sketching a unique spectacle, not seen before in America. No one knew how long this experience would last or if it would happen again. But it was a part of American history he knew he should capture.

 

 

"Let

For more on this subject see the Post‘s articles by Jeff Nilsson:

“Living for Less in America” and “Family Life in Wartime.”

To learn more about ration coupons, we also recommend The Ames (Iowa) Historical Society.

Classic Art: Rockwell Visits a Ration Board The Saturday Evening Post

]]> http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/05/17/art-entertainment/rockwell-visits-a-ration-board-2.html/feed 0 http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/12/03/archives/post-perspective/knew-pearl-harbor.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=knew-pearl-harbor http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/12/03/archives/post-perspective/knew-pearl-harbor.html#comments Sat, 03 Dec 2011 14:00:40 +0000 Jeff Nilsson http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=44971 The attack was a surprise; the war wasn’t.

What We Knew Before Pearl Harbor The Saturday Evening Post

]]> We knew Japan would declare war on us. We didn’t know when or how, but we knew why.

Ever since 1931, the U.S. had been pressuring Japan to withdraw the army it had sent to conquer Manchuria and, eventually, all of China. America had tried exerting diplomatic pressure, but to no avail. The Japanese Imperial Government’s primary goal was to become the conquering ruler of Asia.

When diplomacy didn’t work, President Roosevelt reduced, then ended American export of machinery to Japan. When that didn’t work, he stopped all sales of American oil. Even though its operations in China were running out of gas, Japan persisted. Finally the government froze Japanese assets in the U.S. Roosevelt knew how the Japanese would respond when he signed the order locking Japan’s wealth in American banks. “This means war,” he told his chief adviser.

Washington expected a declaration of war from Tokyo, to be quickly followed by an attack on a distant base. In late November, 1941, the Defense Department ordered every military base in the Pacific to remain at high alert because “hostile action” with Japan was possible at any moment.

No one anticipated that, within a week, Japan would launch a massive, long-planned attack on our fleet before it even declared war.

However, readers of the Post knew that Japan was desperate and audacious enough to try something like it. Since 1939, they’d read articles by the Asian correspondent Hallett Abend, which chronicled the rising militancy in Japan. In the Post of March 4, 1939, he wrote about Japan’s vast security and espionage networks and the growing recklessness of its military. In August, he told readers how much Japan was willing to gamble on conquering China:

Japan’s foreign gold reserve, which in 1925 totaled about 2,000,000,000 yen, is now entirely exhausted…the yen is so shaky that Americans, British, French, and Dutch banks in Shanghai will not accept Japanese currency.

If Japan can succeed in carrying out her plans for grab in China, she may become one of the richest nations in the world within a decade. But there will be only very small profits, or no profits at all, so long as the Chinese continue their military resistance.

In April of 1941, he exploded the comforting myth that the Japanese would never have an effective air force because they simply couldn’t fly.

Japanese mothers all carry their babies on their backs, you know. Heads wobble around so much in infancy that adult Japanese have no sense of balance.

Very interesting—but nonsense, of course. The story is typical of the dozens of old wives’ tales going the rounds about the congenital unfitness of the Japanese as aviators.

It is believed that the Air Military Academy trained more than 700 new pilots during 1940, with the probability of a much larger class this year.

The present strength of the army’s air force…[and] the navy’s…gives Japan around 6000 pilots.

In September of last year, [Japan] had upward of 4000 efficient war planes. Since then she has been turning out about 250 planes a month, so that by the end of February of this year, allowing deductions for losses in China, Nippon’s war air fleet topped 5,000 planes.

In contrast, Abend admitted, there were no more than 7,000 military aircraft—and 40% of these were sluggish trainer planes.

Japan had planned on building several thousand more planes in 1941. However—

the shortage of alloy steels and the growing difficulty of importing machine tools has prevented this peak from being reached. The United States will sell Japan none.

Just two weeks before the Pearl attack, Abend gave a surprisingly accurate picture of Japan’s current position toward the U.S.

This untitled cartoon by Herbert Johnson appeared alongside Hallett Abend's April 19, 1941 article, "Yes, The Japanese Can Fly"

Japan is exasperated… She finds herself baffled and checked by the two things she fears most—the might of the American Navy in the Pacific, and the possibility of losing her vital trade with the United States. She must retain that trade at all costs. And she must not risk a collision with the American Navy. Yet, if she goes ahead and grabs everything she wants in the Far East, she will almost certainly risk trouble with our Navy.

Japan has jockeyed herself into a position where it is almost necessary to have all or nothing. If she decides that the United States is the barrier to the coveted all, Japan is quite capable of provoking a war with us, just as an individual Japanese commits hara-kiri rather than confess to failure.

America has studiously remained scrupulously neutral during more than two years of the China Japanese hostilities, even though American sympathies have been overwhelmingly on the side of the Chinese. This neutrality has been carried to the extent of continuing a trade in war materials and supplies with Japan. There is only one thing that would drive America to a reluctant abandonment of the neutral attitude. This would be deliberate and intolerable provocation on the part of Japan herself.

That “deliberate and intolerable” provocation arrived two weeks after this article appeared, and left 2,402 Americans dead.

The next time an enemy struck at America, the fatalities—all civilians—reached 2,996. This new enemy, though, hid his intentions even better than did Imperial Japan.

What We Knew Before Pearl Harbor The Saturday Evening Post

]]> http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/12/03/archives/post-perspective/knew-pearl-harbor.html/feed 7 http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/11/humor/world-war-ii-cartoons.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=world-war-ii-cartoons http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/11/humor/world-war-ii-cartoons.html#comments Fri, 11 Nov 2011 13:00:08 +0000 Diana Denny http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=41978 Although there's nothing funny about war, creative people can find humor almost anywhere. Here are some cartoons from WWII-era issues of the Post to prove the point!

Cartoons: World War II The Saturday Evening Post

]]> World War II brought scrap metal drives, regulation haircuts, and many other major life adjustments—both in the military and at home. Nevertheless, Post cartoonists during the war years still managed to find humor in the situation.

“One thing I can’t understand about this sentry business. Can you imagine anybody answering ‘Foe’?”
From December 6, 1941

“Why, it was like everyone else’s.”
From September 13, 1941

“I’ll get onto it in a minute. Everything is so darn steady.”
From November 14, 1942

“I feel like an important island in the Pacific.”
From November 5, 1943

“Regulation cut, please.”
From November 28, 1942

“I put the scrap iron to be collected right by the furnace. Why do you ask?”
From October 31, 1942

“The draft hasn’t touched our team, but it certainly played hob with the band.”
From October 31, 1942

“Couple years out of the country and—ZOWIE—address book to blazes!”
From February 26, 1944

Click here for more World War II cartoons.

Cartoons: World War II The Saturday Evening Post

]]> http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/11/humor/world-war-ii-cartoons.html/feed 10 http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/09/art-entertainment/world-war-ii-covers.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=world-war-ii-covers http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/09/art-entertainment/world-war-ii-covers.html#comments Wed, 09 Nov 2011 14:26:54 +0000 Diana Denny http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=41608 In honor of Veterans Day, we’re dusting off some WWII covers—from serious to sweet to humorous.

Classic Covers: World War II The Saturday Evening Post

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“Jungle Commando” by Mead Schaeffer

“Jungle Commando”
by Mead Schaeffer
From October 14, 1942

The great artist Mead Schaeffer (1898-1980) worked as a war correspondent for The Saturday Evening Post, depicting in cover after cover the daily life of the military man. Schaeffer worked hard for authenticity: he hitched a ride on a submarine, a Coast Guard patrol boat, and various aircraft for his over sixteen World War II covers.

“Medic Treating Injured in Field” by Mead Schaeffer

“Medic Treating Injured in Field”
by Mead Schaeffer
March 11, 1944

This 1944 illustration, again by Schaeffer, is a striking reminder of the role of the brave medic in the midst of battle. Schaeffer felt honor-bound to depict the real world of the soldier. But a cover from later that same year, which we show below, depicts a more relaxed side.

“Barn Dance” by Mead Schaeffer

“Barn Dance”
by Mead Schaeffer
November 25, 1944

A well-deserved break at a barn dance is the only war cover Schaeffer did showing a fun side of the times.

“Baby Booties at Boot Camp” by Howard Scott

“Baby Booties at Boot Camp”
by Howard Scott
June 17, 1944

Artist Howard Scott also did a number of covers during World War II—usually of the lighter side. A cover bound to make you go “awww,” the story here is clear: It’s a boy!

“Soldier or Sailor” by John Newton Howitt

“Soldier or Sailor”
by John Newton Howitt
October 19, 1940

This 1940 cover by artist John Newton Howitt shows a twist on the old saw about a sailor having a gal in every port. Tumbling from the lady’s purse is a photo of a soldier. Wartime is hell, buddy.

“The Homecoming G.I.” by Norman Rockwell

“The Homecoming G.I.”
by Norman Rockwell
May 25, 1945

“It was of course very gratifying for me when this painting was selected by the U.S. Treasury for the official poster of the Eighth War Bond Drive,” said Norman Rockwell. The family is rushing out to greet the returning soldier, including the dog and … could mother’s arms be open any wider? The whole neighborhood is delighted in the scene. Notice the shy girl next door waiting patiently to see her sweetheart. You can click on the cover for a close-up of this classic.

For more Rockwell WWII covers, see: “The All-American Soldier: Willie Gillis” and “Thanks Robert Buck, Good-bye Willie Gillis.”

Classic Covers: World War II The Saturday Evening Post

]]> http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/09/art-entertainment/world-war-ii-covers.html/feed 5 http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/10/12/humor/cartoons-oldies-goodies.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=cartoons-oldies-goodies http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/10/12/humor/cartoons-oldies-goodies.html#comments Wed, 12 Oct 2011 19:13:55 +0000 Diana Denny http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=40064 Were cartoons from the 1950s and ’60s as funny as today’s? How about from World War II? We trolled old issues of the Post for these examples.

Cartoons: Oldies But Goodies The Saturday Evening Post

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"When's the best time to catch him in a good humor?"
From July 09, 1949

It was a treat to discover this first cartoon because it’s by Mort Walker from 1949. Walker later became famous, of course, for the Beetle Bailey comic strip. Hmmm, younger guy getting roughed up by authority figure—might there be a pattern here?

"This is Professor Schmertz, authority on structural engineering. He wants to ask you something!"
From July 16, 1949

"This is his den or her sewing room, depending on which one you're talking to."
From June 22, 1957

"Does Ike take Mamie?"
From September 8, 1954

"Frankly I think these family reunions are getting too unwieldy!"
From January 6, 1962

"This is Corporal McClane, mother! He's snatching a last moment of happiness."
From August 8, 1942

"Wait, let's watch this! It ought to be pretty good."
From August 29, 1942

Cartoons: Oldies But Goodies The Saturday Evening Post

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

From Jul/Aug 2000

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!”

From Nov/Dec 2001

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!”

From Jul/Aug 1997

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

A Soldier’s Sketchbook
Courtesy National Geographic

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.

Aboard the U.S.S. General W. H. Gordon, 1944.
From A Soldier's Sketchbook
Courtesy National Geographic

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

"This watercolor shows one of the most dangerous moments in our battle for the Maginot Line. The Germans had bracketed our position, and we anxiously feared the next shell would zero in on us." p. 120
from A Soldier’s Sketchbook
Courtesy National Geographic

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.”

We thank the team at the Book Division of the National Geographic Society for the sketches and cover for A Soldier’s Sketchbook, which will be released in November. It’s a always a treat to show off our talented cartoonists—but it’s also an honor to remember a World War II veteran.

Meet the Cartoonist (and Author): Joe Farris The Saturday Evening Post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dorothy Thompson in 1920

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

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

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

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

Next: “What a Woman!“

The Real Woman of the Year The Saturday Evening Post

“Willie Gillis in Church” by Norman Rockwell

"Willie Gills in Church" by Norman Rockwell, July 25, 1942

This Memorial Day, we remember Norman Rockwell’s WWII soldier, Robert Buck, who passed away this week, with warmth and gratitude.

“Willie Gillis on KP” by Norman Rockwell

"Willie Gillis on KP" by Norman Rockwell, April 11, 1942

Most artists depicted the WWII soldier as a big, strapping man with chiseled features. Rockwell wanted the boy next door. So he studied faces. “The model Rockwell used for Gillis was my wife’s uncle,” emailed Jarrod. “Apparently, they met in Vermont. He (Bob Buck) said that this guy wouldn’t stop staring at him and that he was about to knock his block off when the guy said he was Norman Rockwell and that he wanted to paint him.” By the time of this 1942 cover, many a soldier could identify with the homesick Willie eager for news from home. The war meant financial strains and spiraling costs for everything: it was with this issue that the price of The Saturday Evening Post rose from five to ten cents.

“Willie Gillis’ Package from Home” by Norman Rockwell

"Willie Gillis’ Package from Home" by Norman Rockwell, October 4, 1941

Robert Buck said he was sixteen when he first posed for Rockwell, and both model and artist were surprised at the success of the Willie Gillis covers. This is the first of eleven covers of the “every soldier.” Nothing like a package from home to make you a popular guy. “Norman was a kind gentleman to work with,” Buck wrote. “I had no experience or training for modeling. Many poses or expressions had to be held for agonizing periods of time. Norman’s patience was terrific.” It sounds like the model showed great patience as well.

“Willie Travels”  by Norman Rockwell

"Willie Travels" by Norman Rockwell, June 26, 1943

This eighth cover from 1943 is ironic: A fakir with the power to charm cobras is astonished at Willie’s string trick. Looks like the small-town boy made it to the Middle East and possessed some charm himself. Rockwell was crushed when his “soldier” joined a branch of the Navy, leaving him without the model for his popular series. Ah, but Norman was clever, as we will see.

“Double Trouble for Willie Gillis” by Norman Rockwell

"Double Trouble for Willie Gillis" by Norman Rockwell, September 5, 1942

When two young ladies check their mail at the same time, the result is trouble. Both have photos of our favorite soldier and each is signed, “Love, Willie.” Maybe you should stay in the war zones where it’s safe, Willie. This shows how smart Rockwell was to create another Gillis cover, using only a photo of Willie. It also shows how handy it was to have a good friend and neighbor like Post artist Mead Schaeffer, who happened to have a couple of pretty daughters to pose for the cover.

“Willie Gillis in College” by Norman Rockwell

"Willie Gillis in College" by Norman Rockwell, October 5 ,1946

The final Gillis cover was in October 1946. Our favorite soldier, looking different in civvies, is using his G.I. Bill of Rights to attend college. After finishing this cover in Vermont, Rockwell enlisted the aid of his model to haul the painting to the Saturday Evening Post offices in Philadelphia, where Bob Buck was treated like a celebrity. Mr. Buck, soldiers from different generations will identify with these portraits of military life. Rest in peace, Bob.

Classic Covers: The All-American Soldier Willie Gillis The Saturday Evening Post

Santa’s in the News – Norman Rockwell

Santa's in the NewsNorman RockwellDecember 26, 1942

Norman Rockwell wanted to remind us amidst the horrible 1942 war news, that it was still Christmas. Rockwell finished his famous “Four Freedoms” paintings about this time: Freedom of Speech, Freedom from Want, Freedom of Worship and Freedom from Fear. Whoever purchased a war bond would receive a set of the Four Freedom prints, and the original paintings were exhibited in a special tour, a way the artist helped rack up millions in war bond sales.

Lone Soldier – Mead Schaeffer

Lone SoldierMead SchaefferDecember 25, 1943

Nor were our WWII troops forgotten by Rockwell’s friend, fellow cover artist Mead Schaeffer. Schaeffer painted dozens of soldiers for Post covers during these years, although this is perhaps the most touching. A lone soldier standing guard on December 25, 1943. Like Rockwell, Schaeffer was a stickler for details. A WWII cover of the crow’s nest of a patrol boat was changed after the Navy took a look at it. The fear was the enemy could determine the location of our Russian convoy route on the basis of the stars in the Arctic night sky. So the heavens were scrambled for the actual Post cover. Presumably, these Christmas stars passed muster.

Hanging Holly – J.C. Leyendecker

Hanging HollyJC LeyendeckerDecember 21, 1918

Back to the first war to end all wars. Remembering her sweetheart at Christmas time, this lady keeps his photo first and foremost among the decorations. Beginning in 1899 and continuing to 1943, J.C. Leyendecker did a remarkable 322 Saturday Evening Post covers, one more than Norman Rockwell. It is said that Rockwell deliberately did one less, out of deference to his idol.

A Soldier’s Christmas – J.C. Leyendecker

A Soldier's ChristmasJC LeyendeckerDecember 22, 1917

Leyendecker did many covers of the WWI soldier, writing a letter by campfire, throwing a grenade, praying at a memorial. One we can never resist is this soldier sharing his meager holiday with a little French cutie. By now the prolific artist was famous for his iconic Arrow Shirt ads featuring remarkably handsome men and elegant ladies.

A Soldier’s Thanksgiving – J.C. Leyendecker

A Soldier's ThanksgivingJC LeyendeckerDecember 8, 1917

This happy soldier, also from 1917, lucked out for his holiday feast. Is that perhaps a plum pudding? Although Leyendecker’s art career was waning by World War II, he received commissions from the U.S. War Department to paint posters of officers like Eisenhower and MacArthur encouraging the purchase of war bonds.

Saluting Santa – J.C. Leyendecker

Saluting SantaJC LeyendeckerDecember 7, 1918

Again by J.C. Leyendecker, this cover sums it up. Wherever our troops are serving, along with our Post artists and Santa himself, we would like to salute them.

Classic Covers: A Soldier’s Christmas The Saturday Evening Post

But Americans’ sense of prosperity is relative, as is their sense of being deprived. Americans of the 1930s and ‘40s spent years lowering their expectations and adjusting to life with less. During World War II, for instance, they were forced to live for years with rationed sugar, meat, coffee, shoes, nylon, tires, and gasoline — not to mention the risk of national defeat or the death of relatives in service.

America’s war effort consumed so much of our nation’s food and fuel, the government began a system to limit civilian consumption. Americans on the home front were required to appear before their local rationing boards to obtain books of coupons for essential items.

These ration coupons only allowed them to purchase 2.5 pounds of meat a week — roughly half of what Americans consume today. Each family was entitled just a half pound of sugar each week. But it was gas rationing that affected Americans most deeply. While it inconvenienced everyone to some degree, gas rationing meant inability to travel for others, and even the loss of a job.

A book of ‘B’ coupons allowed drivers to buy 8 gallons of gas each week, but only because they performed essential war work. There were also ‘C’ coupons for mail carriers, doctors, and ministers, and ‘T’ coupons for truck drivers, but everyone else got ‘A’ coupons that entitled them to buy four (4!) gallons of gas per week. Since the average mileage of 1940 automobiles was about 17 mpg, this effectively restricted their travel to 68 miles a week.

All four of these weekly gallons were intended for necessary travel only; the government prohibited pleasure driving for the duration of the war. It also lowered the national speed limit to 35 mph to reduce oil consumption and consumption of tires.

Americans who felt they were entitled to more than four gallons a week could appeal to their local rationing board, where they pleaded with local volunteers like Joe M. Dawson in New York. In 1943, he wrote “Life On A Ration Board” for the Post, and described his experiences — and his education about his fellow countrymen.

Like thousands of others, I became a member of a ration board because it seemed to me the best way, under the circumstances, to serve the war effort the best I could.

I thought I knew a lot about people and what made them tick, because I am in the advertising business, which requires an understanding of people, but I suspect I have learned more about human nature in the past few months than I did in thirty years in business.

My job has to do only with gasoline and tire rationing, but in shop talk with other ration-board members I find that my experiences are quite typical. Sugar, coffee, shoes, meat and canned-goods rationing are pretty much standardized. It is in the gasoline and fuel-oil rationing that there is the most discretion, and much depends upon the judgment of the board members. It is in those divisions, therefore, that we run into the extreme examples.

I have heard more alibis and tall stories than I dreamed the human mind could conceive.

There was, for instance, the young doctor who applied for a C book. Doctors are entitled to this, but his application showed that he was attached to a central-city clinic and made no calls on patients. We questioned him, gently at first, as to why he thought he ought to have precious extra gasoline. For a while he was evasive, replying only, “As a doctor, I’m entitled to it.” But finally he blurted out, ” I must have that C sticker to maintain my social standing. If my neighbors don’t see it on my car, they won’t believe I’m a doctor.”

There was the undertaker who demanded extra gasoline on the premise that he had to make periodic calls upon prospective clients.

And there was the wealthy manufacturer who thumped the desk with his fist and swore that he had been driven between his swank Westchester County home and his Manhattan office every weekday for fifteen years and wasn’t going to put up with this New Deal nonsense now.

One man tendered us a most imposing statement from his doctor to back up his claim that his health made it imperative that he drive up to, and around in, Canada for a while. It was filled with such awe-inspiring medical terms that the three of us serving on this board—a wealthy importer, a prominent corporation lawyer, and the head of a sizable advertising agency—felt we might have the man’s life on our consciences if we rejected the application. On a hunch, however, the importer showed the report to his own doctor. “Hell,” said the physician, “this merely means the man has a hernia. The trip would do him more harm than good.”

And then there was the case of the expectant mother who wanted gasoline to make regular visits for prenatal care to a hospital some distance from her home. The board pointed out that there were quite a number of hospitals and clinics much nearer to her home, and refused her application. This made her angry. “How,” she demanded, “do you gentlemen expect a woman to have a baby on three gallons of gas?”

Americans don’t like living with less. They work hard and expect the rewards of their labor.

A line at a New Orleans rationing board, March 1943.Photo by John Vachon. Library of Congress.

My job has to do only with gasoline and tire rationing, but in shop talk with other ration-board members I find that my experiences are quite typical. Sugar, coffee, shoes, meat and canned-goods rationing are pretty much standardized. It is in the gasoline and fuel-oil rationing that there is the most discretion, and much depends upon the judgment of the board members. It is in those division, therefore, that we run into the extreme examples.

There was, for instance, the young doctor who applied for a C book. Doctors are entitled to this, but his application showed that he was attached to a central-city clinic and made no calls on patients. We questioned him, gently at first, as to why he thought he ought to have precious extra gasoline. For a while he was evasive, replying only, “As a doctor, I’m entitled to it.” But finally he blurted out: ” I must have that C sticker to maintain my social standing. If my neighbors don’t see it on my car, they won’t believe I’m a doctor.”

There was the undertaker who demanded extra gasoline on the premise that he had to make periodic calls upon prospective clients.

And there was the wealthy manufacturer who thumped the desk with his fist and swore that he had been driven between his swank Westchester County home and his Manhattan office every weekday for fifteen years and wasn’t going to put up with this New Deal nonsense now.

One man tendered us a most imposing statement from his doctor to back up his claim that his health made it imperative that he drive up to and around in Canada for a while. It was filled with such awe-inspiring medical terms that the three of us serving on this hoard—a wealthy importer, a prominent corporation lawyer and the head of a sizable advertising agency—felt we might have the man’s life on our consciences if we rejected the application. On a hunch, however, the importer showed the report to his own doctor. “Hell,” said the physician, “this merely means the man has a hernia. The trip would do him more harm than good.”

And then there was the case of the expectant mother who wanted gasoline to make regular visits for prenatal care to a hospital some distance from her home. The board pointed out that there were quite a number of hospitals and clinics much nearer to her home, and refused her application. This made her angry. “How,” she demanded, “do you gentlemen expect a woman to have a baby on three gallons of gas?”

But for all his neighbors’ anger and self-righteous protests against war rationing, Dawson didn’t grow cynical. He still found plenty of evidence of the largeness of spirit we expect in Americans; or, as he put it—

I have seen practical proof that the average American is honest, and can take it like a man—if you explain to him why it is necessary.

I have heard of a clergyman who merely bowed his head in acceptance and would not permit himself even a — it seems to me — justifiable deviation to avoid an unfair technicality. This man of God used a bicycle for his nearer calls and an automobile only for the more distant ones. There was no doubt that he required extra gasoline, or that he was morally entitled to it. But under the rules a preferred mileage certificate could be issued only if the automobile was his “prime” means of transportation. He had been using the bicycle more than the automobile, so technically the bicycle was his prime means of transportation. The board which sat in his case gave him broad hints that if he used his automobile more and his bicycle less, the extra gasoline could be arranged; and also told him that he had a good chance to win on an appeal. “No,” he said. “It would not be right.”

And there was the hardware salesman who had to cover a wide territory with samples weighing a couple of hundred pounds. It was the only job he ever had, and he knew nothing else. He needed to drive at least 2,000 miles a month, and we could allow him only the maximum B ration, which, since the value of coupons has been cut, allowed him only 378 miles. But when we showed him that the regulations were inflexible on that point, he shrugged his shoulders and said: ‘Well, we all got to take it nowadays. I guess I can find some other way of making a living — I hope.”

Living With Less In America The Saturday Evening Post